"She is getting thinner every day, and losing appetite, and there is a nervous look in her eyes that I do not like. Miss Titheridge will not see it; I think sometimes she dislikes Emmie; she and Fraulein are harder on her than ever." "There now, there now, poor lambs, poor orphaned lambs," broke in the compassionate Caleb. "They are driving me to the verge of distraction, and they know it," continued Queenie, in the same strange, suppressed voice; "things cannot go on like this much longer. Caleb, I shall frighten you, but I have made up my mind to do something desperate, and to do it at once: I mean to go to Mr. Calcott." Caleb's hands dropped on his knees, and his eyes grew round and fixed. "Miss Queenie!" he gasped at length. "I shall go to him," repeated the young girl quietly, "and tell him about Emmie." "But--but he will never see you, my dear young lady; you must be mad or dreaming. See Mr. Calcott! it is a preposterous idea--preposterous--pre--." "Hush! when have you ever known me fail in anything I have undertaken? It is a waste of words to try and dissuade me. All last night I lay thinking it out, till my brain reeled. I may do no good; heaven knows what manner of man I have to deal with, but all the same I will speak to him, face to face, and tell him what is in my heart." "Heaven preserve the young creature, for she is certainly daft!" groaned Caleb; and here he positively wrung his hands. "The lamb in the lion's den, that is what it will be. Miss Queenie, dear," he said, coaxingly, "I am thirty or forty years older than you; be guided by an old friend, and put this thought out of your head." Queenie shook her head. "It will do no good to Emmie, and only anger him against you both. He is an old man now, and ailing; and some say he suffers a good deal at times, and then he gets almost beside himself. You do not know to what you expose yourself." "Besides," finding the girl still remained silent, "you may even turn him more against you. Sometimes I have seen him start and bite his lip when the school has passed our office window; he never fails to recognise it, and he seems disturbed and put out for minutes afterward. You see his sin lies heavy on him--the sin of those wicked words, Miss Queenie." "Yes, yes, I know," she interrupted hastily, "and most likely he repents. Caleb, it is useless; nothing you can say will shake my resolution. Things have come to this pass, that I would rather beg my bread than be indebted any longer to Miss Titheridge. If we stay there Emmie will die, and then what good will my life be to me." The old man shook his head reproachfully. "Miss Queenie, you know what you have refused?"