ed, shrieking
out those last words passionately.

Violet made no reply, and the child stood irresolute for a few moments,
then threw herself into a chair and began to swing her feet back and
forth violently, kicking the frame with every movement.

This uncomfortable state of affairs lasted until the clock struck nine,
when Violet laid aside her book, saying, pleasantly, and as if nothing
unusual had happened:

"Come, Bertha, it is time for our lessons."

She arose and wheeled the small table, upon which their text books were
always kept, toward the bay-window where Bertha liked to sit, and
seating herself, took up a history and began to read aloud, as was her
custom.

"No," cried Bertha, in an irritating tone, "I am not going to have any
lessons this morning. I want my breakfast."

Violet was astonished at such persistent obstinacy in one so young; but
she was determined that she would not yield to it. She felt that if she
conquered in this first conflict she would be reasonably sure to come
off victor in other encounters, while if she allowed herself to be
beaten she might as well give up her position at once, for she would be
able to do the child no earthly good without a curbing influence over
her.

So she went quietly on with her reading, whereupon Miss Bertha clapped
her hands over her ears as if to shut out the sound of her teacher's
voice.

Violet was not going to waste her breath reading to the four walls, so
she shut and laid down her book with a heavy sigh, and wondering how
long this would last, and what she ought to do next.

CHAPTER XXIII.

VIOLET GAINS A SIGNAL VICTORY.

The child was only pretending not to hear.

She caught the sound of her much-tried companion's sigh, and instantly
her lips began to twitch and curve slightly in a smile that had
suspicion of triumph in it.

Violet saw it, and instantly the lines about her own mouth grew firmer
and more resolute.

"She thinks to tire me out and gain her point," she said to herself,
"but I am going to settle who is to rule, once for all, for if I cannot
have her respectful obedience it will be useless for me to remain here."

She arose and passed into her own room, but presently returned bringing
with her a dainty little basket in which there lay some fancy-work and
bright flosses.

Resuming her seat by the window, she busied herself with her embroidery,
apparently oblivious of the fact that there was any one else in the
room.