Mrs. Grey said nothing; at least nothing heard by human ears; but presently rose and went to Gabrielle's room, and examined her bureau-drawers, which she found in confusion, and whence she abstracted a quantity of pernicious articles. Later in the day Gabrielle detected the fact, and came to her defiantly with-- "I am going to write to papa to let me go home." "Very well, my dear." The child, expecting a conflict such as she had often had with her mother, was startled by this cool rejoinder, and at last began to cry. "I am very sorry for you," said Mrs. Grey. "No you ain't sorry either. And my head aches awfully, and I feel sick. I wish I was at home." For answer, Mrs. Grey took her by the hand, led her up to her room, applied remedies with tenderness, and sympathy, and skill, and at last helped her to undress and go to bed. She slept better than she had done for weeks; had some beef-tea for her breakfast, and the devil of indigestion was exorcised, for the time. Laura was going home now; she and the children were now quite well, and Harry could stand his loneliness no longer. "Mag and I had delightful times together while you were gone," she said, as she took leave, "and if she gets out of the tangle of all those lessons, I shall want her to make me a good long visit. You will have your hands so full with Gabrielle that you won't miss her. Mamma--" "Well, dear." "I wish I hadn't been such a bad child." "You weren't bad. You had fits of ill-humor that I did not understand, and therefore mismanaged; I know now that indigestion often lies at the bottom of what looks like moral delinquency in children. Keep them well, and they'll keep themselves good-humored." "Oh, I'm careful enough about Pug and Trot, as need be!" "It's enough to make them ill to call them by such hideous names." "Well, what could I do? Could I call my husband 'the old Harry' to distinguish him from the young Harry?" "There, go, you incorrigible child!" cried Mrs. Grey, kissing her good-bye. Laura drove off, laughing, and the children laughed in concert, they knew not why. Gabrielle was in a much more docile humor now, and Mrs. Grey explained to her the laws of health that made the open air, and exercise, and plain food essential to every one, but especially so to growing children. "I do not intend to treat you in an arbitrary way," she said, "because I happen to have it in my power to do so. What I do will be for your good, not to gratify my self-will. I took away the dainties from your room because, in your condition, they were poison for you; when you are quite well you shall have some of them, from time to time, as a part of your dinner; never between meals." Not more than a month passed, when Gabrielle had another sick head-ache. It soon became apparent that she had gone back to her old trick of eating, at all hours, on the sly. When she recovered, Mrs. Grey said to her: