"Was it on that day Miss Neville lost a piece of work?" "Yes, it was only half finished, too; and you took it, you know you did." "And you say some one took it while you were out walking?" "Yes." Frances lifted away her hand from Fanny's arm, where it had been placed so roughly, and let it fall helplessly to her side. Gradually she drooped her eyes, and slowly moved away. "It is too much," she said, with a deep sigh, while the child stood mute with astonishment at the effect of her words, she being old and wise enough to see they had not only disarmed, but wounded and hurt Frances, and stung her to the quick. And so they had. Frances knew well enough _she_ had not taken the work. Was it Charles? and was that the reason why he had looked so guilty when she unexpectedly entered? It was not the mere fact of being caught in the school-room. No; it was a cowardly fear lest she should have seen the theft that had made him start, and answer at random, and appear so confused. All was accounted for now. Yes; he it was who had taken it, and for what? She paused and looked back. Fanny was following at a respectful distance. She waited until she came up. "You know not what you have done, child," she said, sternly, with just a slight tremble of the lips and lower part of the face. "I will never forgive you for telling me." She went on, and the now startled child went on too, knowing full well that her governess must be growing anxious. And Amy had grown anxious at her prolonged absence, and after awaiting Mary's fruitless search for her in the shrubbery and garden, had gone herself in quest of her, first to Julia's room, thinking she might be there, or at the least they might be able to give her some information; but neither of the sisters had, of course, seen anything of her, so Amy retraced her steps, and had reached the end of the gallery, when Charles turned the corner. They met face to face. He held out his hand. Amy could not refuse to take it, indeed it was all so sudden, she never thought of refusing. "Have you hurt your hand, Miss Neville?" he inquired, seeing she held out the left, while the right was in some measure supported by the thumb being thrust into the waist belt. "Slightly," replied Amy, and would have passed on, but he was determined this time she should not evade him. "What is the matter with it? How did you hurt it?" "It was wrenched," she said, hesitatingly, and a little confusedly. "I do not think there is much the matter with it." "Wrenched!" echoed he, in some surprise. Then, all at once, the thought seemed to strike him as to how it was done, and he added, decidedly, "It was yesterday, at the lake, holding my horse. Confound him!" Amy did not deny his assertion, indeed she could not, as it was true. "Are you much hurt?" he asked again, in a kind voice. "I think not. It is bruised or sprained, that is all." "All!" he repeated, reproachfully and tenderly.