"Does it mean I am to have full control?" asked Margaret--"I mean in this way," she added. "My pupil had no lessons to-day; she ran away to the woods this morning because I could not allow her to eat cake instead of her breakfast, and----" "Oh, I'm glad if you intervened in _that_ matter! I have forbidden that," he answered quickly. "So I understood." "And you supported the order?" "Yes, and offended Ellice very deeply, I'm afraid," laughed Margaret. "Never mind, you succeed if you get your way. Go on as you have begun, Miss Woodford; I cannot suggest anything to you, but"--lowering his voice---"if you can win my child and gain control over her, I shall be more than grateful." His manner was earnest, but Margaret felt there was reservation when he paused and suddenly changed the conversation. The little she had gathered strengthened her in her purpose. There was evidently trouble in this house which could not be fully explained. She went to bed that night puzzled, but determined to try and do her duty whatever the future might mean to her. Ellice was like a different child at breakfast the following morning. She appeared bubbling over with amiability and good spirits, and even the presence of her governess at the breakfast-table brought no frowns or sulky looks. Margaret's proposal to take some lesson-books to the woods was acceded to with apparent delight. "Oh, do let's, Miss Woodford!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands with joy; in fact, the suggestion was so novel, she forgot for a little she was at enmity with her governess. The call of the woods was so strong within her. With a luncheon-basket and armed with paper and pencils, governess and pupil set out with enthusiasm for a beginning in the path of knowledge. They found the old haunt in the oak, and sat down to work. After a grind at reading and arithmetic, Miss Woodford electrified her pupil by the remark, "Now, shall we talk about the trees?" "About the trees?" repeated the child in amazement. "Yes, let me think what this old oak has to say to us about himself; shut your eyes and listen, and I will tell you something of his story." "I've lived such a long, long life," whispered the oak, "but although I'm getting very old, I can remember the days when I was young--more than two thousand years ago"--(Ellice stirred as if to interrupt, but the slight pressure of Margaret's fingers on her arm made her relapse, and she breathlessly listened to this wonderful statement)--"yes, more than two thousand years ago," insisted the oak, "I was planted just here--a young sapling I was, strong and sturdy, but small and tender, and had not much knowledge of the world then. But that has all opened up in the centuries I've lived, and I've seen wonderful changes, I can tell you.