her hand, when Rosamund offered any food it was
gratefully accepted.

Rosamund felt the situation was growing critical. She by no means wanted
an exhibition of Irene's wrath. The girl was really making a very great
effort to control herself, and must not be tried too far. Accordingly,
when one little girl refused a slice of bread-and-jam from Irene, and
eagerly held out her hand to take it from Rosamund, Rosamund motioned
Irene back again.

"That bread-and-jam is much nicer than this," she said. "If you don't
take that you won't get any other;" and she insisted on the child taking
a slice from the plate which Irene offered.

The little girl turned crimson. She put the bread-and-jam upon her
plate, but evidently did not intend to eat it. Irene's face was changing
color from moment to moment. She liked Maud; Alice, Mary, Ivy, and
Jasmine were as nothing to her. Bertha was nowhere to be seen, and where
was "Cartery dear"? That one glimpse she had caught of the terrified
woman, who had disappeared like a flash into the house, had whetted
Irene's desire to behold her again. Accordingly, when Rosamund's back
was turned she slipped away toward the house. In a moment she was in the
house, and in another moment she had climbed the stairs. Compared to The
Follies, the Rectory was small, although it was really quite a large
house. It did not take long for Irene to peep into each empty bedroom,
until at last she found one occupied. It was occupied by a woman who was
being devotedly attended to by Bertha Singleton. Bertha was bathing her
head with aromatic vinegar, and soothing her with loving words. But the
next moment the poor woman uttered a cry, for Irene herself was in the
room.

"Oh, do go away! Don't, I beseech of you, do anything to me. Do go
away!" cried the terrified woman.

Instead of going away, Irene marched straight to the bed.

"Look here, Miss Carter," she said; "you have been exceedingly silly in
running away from me as you have done. As to me, I was a perfect fiend
that time at The Follies. I wanted to get rid of you, and I could think
of no other way. But now that Rosamund is here I see things from a
different point of view. Will you trust me?"

"I don't know," said poor Miss Carter, looking at Irene with those
absolutely terrified eyes which the girl detested. Perhaps she would
have given up her efforts to make friends with Miss Carter had she not
at that moment glanced out of the window and seen Rosamund