The young East Indian, however, said not a word in reply; all that passed her lips was an occasional sarcastic simper; and though Miss Wewitz begged to assure her, on leaving her bed-room, that she would have no breakfast in that establishment on the morrow, provided the slice of bread that she had picked up and brought with her down stairs remained uneaten, Miss Chutney merely bowed in answer, for she was determined not to give way. She had said at the beginning that she would not be the first to make it up, and she would let the sour old thing see that she was no longer a child, to be kept under lock and key, indeed. When the enraged schoolmistress had quitted the apartment, slamming the door after her, and Miss Chutney was left alone, she could not help thinking how desolate and friendless she was, without a soul near her to share or soothe her sorrows. As her head lay upon the pillow, she thought how all her schoolfellows were with their friends at home, enjoying themselves, while she was thousands of miles away from every one that cared for her. The only kind word she had received all that day was from a stranger, and if it hadn’t been for the sweetmeats he had given her, she really didn’t know what would have happened to her. All she _did_ know was, she would have starved before she had touched that horrid bread and water. Still, she could not help thinking how odd it was that the French gentleman should trouble himself so much about her! what could he see in her? His whole manner had been so strange, and he had seemed so anxious to make her acquaintance from the very first! Of course, she could tell very well that all he had said about the piece of music he had lost was a little white fib, just as an excuse to introduce himself to her. It was very impudent of him, though, and she ought to be very much vexed with him for daring to take such a liberty with her, but—she knew not how it was—she really couldn’t. Then she wondered _who_ he was. She had heard he was a French Count, and he himself had told her he was single. He’d make a very good husband, whoever had him; for if he could be so good to one whom he scarcely knew at all, what wouldn’t he do for one whom he had sworn at the altar to “love and cherish.” (Miss Chutney, and the whole of the first class, had the marriage-service by heart, it being their usual custom to pass the time in church by reading it during the sermon.) Thus the school-girl continued ruminating and ruminating upon the more pleasant part of her day’s adventures, until she gradually glided into sleep.