Leonora made no answer; for she was really hurt at her friend’s conduct. She walked on to join the rest of her companions. They were dancing in a round upon the grass. Leonora declined dancing; but they prevailed upon her to sing for them. Her voice was not so sprightly, but it was sweeter than usual. Who sang so sweetly as Leonora? or who danced so nimbly as Louisa? Away she was flying, all spirits and gaiety, when Leonora’s eyes full of tears, caught hers. Louisa silently let go her companion’s hand, and, quitting the dance, ran up to Leonora to inquire what was the matter with her. “Nothing,” replied she, “that need interrupt you. Go, my dear; go and dance again.” Louisa immediately ran away to her garden, and pulling off her little straw hat, she lined it with the freshest strawberry-leaves, and was upon her knees before the strawberry-bed when Cecilia came by. Cecilia was not disposed to be pleased with Louisa at that instant, for two reasons; because she was jealous of her, and because she had injured her. The injury, however, Louisa had already forgotten. Perhaps to tell things just as they were, she was not quite so much inclined to kiss Cecilia as she would have been before the fall of her mandarin; but this was the utmost extent of her malice, if it can be called malice. “What are you doing there, little one?” said Cecilia, in a sharp tone. “Are you eating your early strawberries here all alone?” “No,” said Louisa, mysteriously, “I am not eating them.” “What are you doing with them? can’t you answer, then? I’m not playing with you, child!” “Oh, as to that, Cecilia, you know I need not answer you unless I choose it; not but what I would if you would only ask me civilly, and if you would not call me _child_.” “Why should not I call you child?” “Because—because—I don’t know; but I wish you would stand out of my light, Cecilia, for you are trampling upon all my strawberries.” “I have not touched one, you covetous little creature!” “Indeed—indeed, Cecilia, I am not covetous. I have not eaten one of them; they are all for your friend Leonora. See how unjust you are!” “Unjust! that’s a cant word which you learnt of my friend Leonora, as you call her; but she is not my friend now.” “Not your friend now!” exclaimed Louisa; “then I am sure you must have done something _very_ naughty.” “How?” cried Cecilia, catching hold of her. “Let me go, let me go!” cried Louisa, struggling. “I won’t give you one of my strawberries, for I don’t like you at all!” “You don’t, don’t you?” cried Cecilia, provoked, and, catching the hat from Louisa, she flung the strawberries over the hedge. “Will nobody help me?” exclaimed Louisa, snatching her hat again, and running away with all her force.