azed
aghast, preparing to fly and interfere, she heard a quiet laugh behind
her, and turning, saw Mr. Montfort looking over her shoulder.

"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" he said. "Separate them? On no
account, my dear! They have been shut up for hours, and their muscles
need stretching. Don't be alarmed, my child; I know this kind." Poor
Margaret sighed. She did not know this kind.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRST CONQUEST.

When Margaret went to bed that night, she felt as if she had been
whipped with rods. Head, heart, and back, all ached in sympathy. The
children were in bed; that is, she had left them in bed; their staying
there was another matter; however, all three were tired after their
journey, and Uncle John thought the chances were that they would fall
asleep before they had time to think of doing anything else. Among the
three, the little girl was the one who oppressed Margaret with a sense
of defeat, a sense of her own incompetence. She had not expected to
understand the boys; she had never had any experience of boys; but she
had expected to win the little girl to her, and make her a little
friend, perhaps almost a sister. Susan D. received her advances with an
elfish coldness that had something not human in it, Margaret thought.
The child was like a changeling, in the old fairy stories. That evening,
when bedtime came, Margaret went up with her to the pretty room, hoping
for a pleasant time. She sat down and took the little girl on her knee.
"Let us have a cuddle, dear!" she said; "put your head down on my
shoulder, and I will sing you one of my own bedtime songs, that my nurse
used to sing to me."

Susan D. sat bold upright, not a yielding joint in all her body.

"Don't you like songs?" asked Margaret, stroking the tow-coloured hair
gently.

"No!" said the child; and with the word she wriggled off Margaret's lap,
and stood twisting her fingers awkwardly, and frowning at the floor.
Margaret sighed.

"Then we will undress and get to bed," she said, trying to speak
lightly. "You must be very tired, little girl. Isn't that a pretty bed?
Is your bed at home like this? Tell me about your room, won't you,
Susie?"

But Susan D. still twisted her fingers and frowned, and would not say a
single word. She made no resistance, however, when Margaret helped her
off with her clothes. "You are big enough to undress yourself, of
course," the girl said, "but I will help you to-night, because you are
tired