leigh. Some day little Agnes will get a great fright. She
says that she doesn't believe me; but you can tell her the truth, can't
you? You did swallow wood-lice, did you not?"

"I--I would rather not speak of it," said Miss Frost. "It is all over
now." But she shuddered as she spoke.

"Nevertheless, you must tell her. The child will not believe me."

"It was a long time ago, darling. Oh, Lucy, what have you done? What
mischief you have done! How could you be so unkind?"

For little Agnes, in a perfect agony of weeping, had thrown herself into
her sister's arms.

"I--I don't believe it!" she said. "Irene! Dearest, dearest Irene! She
couldn't do anything of that sort."

"She couldn't now, Aggie. Oh, Lucy, do go away! Leave her to me--leave
her to me," said Miss Frost, in the greatest distress.

Having accomplished her mission--and, as she said to herself, brought
gunpowder into the enemy's camp--Lucy retired, wondering that she did
not feel more satisfied. Agnes and her sister had a very long talk, the
end of which was that they returned home a short time after Irene and
Rosamund had come back from The Follies.

Irene began at once to call for Agnes.

"Aggie! Where's my Aggie? Aggie, I have brought you something
back--something ever so pretty!"

But there was no response, and Irene felt a queer sensation at her
heart.

"Where is the child?" she said. "Where is my little Agnes?"

After a time Agnes was seen running towards her. She did not come quite
as fast as usual, and there was a change in her face. Irene did not know
when she saw that change why a sudden sense of fear stole over her. It
was as though some one had snatched the heart out of a gem, the glory
out of a flower. It was as though little Agnes was no longer the
beautiful Agnes she loved. She could not analyze her own feelings. She
herself had returned in the best of spirits. Rosamund had been so
bright, so cheery, so brave; her mother had been so pleased at the
reports which Irene's different masters and mistresses had given her.
All seemed going prosperously and well, and on the way home Rosamund had
spoken of Agnes, and said how glad she was that Irene should have the
little one to look after, to love and to guide and to cherish.
Altogether, Irene was in her most softened mood, and she had brought
back to Sunnyside several old toys of her own which she had rooted out
of a cupboard in the long-disused nursery. They would charm little
Agnes; the