"Send it up," quietly replied Sinnett. "But what on earth will the justice and the young masters say?" "We shall see. I wash my hands of interfering. Exactly what she has ordered, cook, and no more, mind: she and the master must settle it between them." Mary Anne Thornycroft had hoped she "should not die of it." Of that there was little chance; but that the girl had received a great blow, there was no disputing. Mr. Thornycroft had said a word to her that morning after breakfast in his authoritative manner, to remind her that she was not to run wild, now there was some one at home to be her friend, mother, companion. Smarting under the sense of wrongs that in her limited experience, her ignorance of the woes of the world, she believed had never fallen on anybody's head before, Mary Anne when left alone burst into a flood of tears; and Isaac surprised her in them. Half in vexation, half in pride, she dried them hastily. Isaac drew her before him, and stood holding her hands in his, looking down gravely into her face. "What did you promise me, Mary Anne?" No answer. "That you would, for a time at least, make the best of things. That you would _try_ the new rule before rebelling against it." "But I can't. It is too hard, Isaac. Papa's beginning to interfere now." "Interfere! Is that the right word to use?" She looked down, pouting her pretty lips. It was a good sign, as Isaac knew. "There was no harm in my walking to Mrs. Copp's after breakfast yesterday; or in my staying there; or in my going with you to Jutpoint." "Did papa say there was harm?" "He told me I was not to run wild now. He told me that I had a"--the poor chest heaved piteously--"a mother. A mother to control me!" "Well!" said Isaac. "She is not my mother--I will never call her so. Oh, Isaac! why can't the old days come back again, when mademoiselle was here?" "Hush! don't cry. Richard or she may be coming in. There; be your own calm self, while I say a word to you. Listen. This calamity has been--" "There!" she interrupted. "You say yourself it is a calamity." "I have never thought it anything else; but it cannot be averted now, and therefore nothing remains but to try and lighten it. It has been brought about by you; by you alone, Mary Anne; and if I revert to that fact for a moment, my dear, it is not to pain you, but to draw an inference from it for the future. Do not rebel at first to the control of my lady. It would be unjust, ungracious, altogether wrong; it might lead to further trouble for you; we know not of what sort. Promise me," he added, kissing her lips, "that you will not be the one to make first mischief. It is for your own good that I urge it." Her better judgment came to her, and she gave Isaac a little nod in answer.