‘I do not know,’ answered Dora.

‘Do they look so, my dear?’ said Rupert, mimicking poor Helen’s woe-begone face in a very droll way.

Dora laughed, and Helen was still more displeased.  ’Dora, it is very naughty,’ said she.

‘What! to look cross?’ said Rupert; ‘certainly, is it not, Dora?’

Elizabeth and Anne were far in the rear, reaching for some botanical curiosity, on the other side of a wet ditch, or they would certainly have put a stop to this conversation, which was not very profitable to any of the parties concerned.  Dora was rather a matter-of-fact little person, and a very good implement for teazing with, as she did not at all suspect the use made of her, until a sudden thought striking her, she stopped short, saying very decidedly, ’We will not talk of this any more.’

‘Why not?’ said Rupert, rather sorry to be checked in the full enjoyment of his own wit.

‘Because Helen does not like it,’ said Dora.

‘But, Dora,’ said Rupert, wishing to try the little girl rather further, ‘do not you think she deserves it, for being out of temper?’

‘I do not know,’ said Dora gravely, ’but I know it is not right or kind to say what vexes her, and I shall not stay with you any longer, Rupert, if you will do it.’

So saying, Dora, well-named Discreet Dolly, ran away to Lucy, of whom she was very fond.

Rupert was both amused and surprised at Dora’s behaviour, and perhaps, at the same time, a little ashamed and piqued by a little girl of seven years old having shewn more right feeling and self-command than he had displayed; and to cover all these sensations, he began to talk nonsense to Katherine and Harriet as fast as he could.

In the mean time Helen walked on alone, a little behind the rest of the party; for by this time Elizabeth and Anne had come up with the others, and had passed her.  As they entered a little copse, she began to recollect herself.  She had from her infancy been accustomed to give way to fits of peevishness and fretfulness, thinking that as long as her ill-humour did not burst forth in open name, as Elizabeth’s used formerly to do, there was no great harm in letting it smoulder away, and make herself and everyone else uncomfortable.  Some time ago, something had brought conviction to her mind that such conduct was not much better than bearing malice and hatred in her heart, and she had resolved to cure herself of the habit.  Then came her visit to Dykelands, where everything went on smoothly, and there was little temptation to give way to ill-humour, so that she had almost forgotten her reflections on the subject, till the present moment, when she seemed suddenly to wake and find herself in the midst of one of her old sullen moods.  She struggled hard against it, and as acknowledging ill temper is one great step towards conquering it, she soon recovered sufficiently to admire the deep pink fruit of the skewer-wood, and