Julia burst into tears, and said:  “No, father, I am not; and I think it too bad that I should be suspected of such a thing, when I am trying to do as well as I can.”

“I think so too,” said Mr. Wilmot, whose sympathies were all with Julia.

Mr. Miller thought otherwise, but he said nothing.  Julia had never been a favorite with him.  He understood her character perfectly well and he felt grieved that his friend should be so deceived in her.  Perhaps Julia read something of what was passing in his mind; for she felt very uneasy for fear he might tell Mr. Wilmot something unfavorable of her.  Nor was she mistaken in her conjectures, for after the young men had retired for the night, their conversation naturally enough turned upon the family and the two girls, both of whom Mr. Wilmot spoke of in the highest terms.  Mr. Miller agreed with him as long as his remarks were confined to Fanny, but when he came to speak of Julia, and of her superior beauty, intellect and agreeable manners, he ventured to disagree with him.

Said he, “As to Julia’s beauty, there can be but one opinion, for she is very handsome; but the interior of the casket does not correspond with the exterior; she is as false as fair.  Then, as to her intellect, I never thought it greatly superior to Fanny’s.  To be sure, she has a way of showing off all she does know, while Fanny is more retiring.”

Here Mr. Wilmot spoke of the faculty she possessed for learning so long lessons.  “Even your favorite Fanny,” said he, “admitted that.”

“True,” returned Mr. Miller, “but have you forgotten the notes?  Do you not think there may be something in that?”

“Is it possible,” said Mr. Wilmot, rather warmly, “is it possible you think the high-souled Julia capable of such meanness?  You do not know her as well as I do, if you think she would stoop to such deception.  You shall go to school with me tomorrow, and then you can see for yourself.”

“Yes, I will do so,” said Mr. Miller, and then as he saw Mr. Wilmot seemed somewhat excited, he changed the conversation, which had been heard by other ears.  Adjoining the room of Mr. Wilmot was a long dark closet, the door of which opened into the apartment of Julia and Fanny.  This closet was used for a kind of lumber room, in which were stored promiscuously old barrels, trunks, hats, boots and so forth.  It originally had a window, but the glass had long been broken and its place supplied by a large board, which failed to keep out the wind and rain, so that during the winter season the closet was a cold, cheerless place.

But on the night of which we were speaking, it contained a novel piece of lumber.  Crouched behind an old barrel sat Julia, listening eagerly to the conversation between her teacher and Mr. Miller.  When it ceased she arose from her dark hiding place and muttered to herself:  “So you’ll see, will you?  You old torment!  I wish the Old Scratch had got you before you ever came here.  If I dared to I’d—­but no, I wouldn’t do that, bad as I am.  However, I’ll cheat you for once, you hateful limb!  But what shall I do?”