"I was standing at the top of the back stairs listening to your raised voices, when suddenly I saw Master Gerald push you out of his room, and lock the door against you. Haven't you and he made up your quarrel yet?" "No," Angel responded, relieved that Mrs. Vallance apparently was unaware of all that had occurred. "Gerald wanted me to be friends with him last night, but I wouldn't. He—he served me very badly, I think." "I dare say he did, but I'm sure he was sorry afterwards. He's thoughtless and selfish, perhaps, but I don't like to hear of your bearing malice in heart, Miss Angel, dear. It's unchristian-like, that's what it is." "Yes," Angel sighed, "I know, I know!" "'Let not the sun go down upon your wrath,'" Mrs. Vallance quoted. "That's a verse from the Bible we all ought to remember." "I used not to be so unforgiving," Angel said; "but then Gerald never treated me before as he did last night. I—I can't tell you about it, Mrs. Vallance; but I think if you knew all, you would say he had behaved very badly." "I have no doubt I should; still, however wrong he was, don't let him believe his sister has turned against him. You must be patient with him. I know you're that, as a rule, but don't let him tire you out. Didn't you tell me once that you had promised your mother to be loving and patient with him?" "Yes; but I forgot that last night," Angel admitted. "I don't know how it was, but I never felt so wicked before. I couldn't pray—not properly." "No one can pray properly when angry, Miss Angel." There was a long pause, which Mrs. Vallance at length broke by saying thoughtfully, "I don't think I ever told you that I lived in service with Miss Goodwin once, did I?" "No," the little girl replied, rather astonished at this sudden change in the conversation; "was that long ago?"