The door of Ellice's room stood open, and she was listening to every word--"_silly little sister_." She writhed as she heard the epithet applied to herself; she had felt so clever and important just before, and now she dived under the clothes, cringing with mortification. The sarcastic contempt in Miss Woodford's voice was far worse than the severest punishment Bob had ever endured, and he felt covered with confusion and disgust at his invidious position. "Go--go to your bedroom at once," finished Margaret, "and see that you don't cause any further trouble." At this moment Mr. Medhurst opened his door, and inquired if anything was the matter. "Now I shall get it," thought Bob to himself; but he was mistaken. Margaret had spoken in low tones up to now, being most anxious the master of the house should not be disturbed. She was fighting her own battle in her own way, and did not need any court of appeal at present. "Bob and I both heard a slight noise, Mr. Medhurst," she answered. "But it seems quiet enough now. I don't think there is anything the matter really." "Cats, perhaps," he answered, smiling; "they do come up these stairs at night sometimes. You are not nervous, I hope, Miss Woodford?" "Not in the least," she answered. "I think we can all go to bed again satisfied." "Ah, that's sensible," he replied, adding, as he was in the act of closing his door, "I am glad you came down to reassure Miss Woodford, Bob. I expect you remembered Miss Warner was alarmed in the same way." Margaret stole a glance at the boy, but he would not raise his eyes to hers, but instead he turned swiftly and fled up to his room. She smiled to herself as she closed her door, then with a little sigh of weariness returned to her slumbers. CHAPTER IV INFLUENCE Sunday dawned fair and sweet. A sharp shower during the night had freshened the garden and watered the parched ground, which had drunk the moisture up greedily, carrying it down to the roots of the grass and already bringing back the resurrection colour to the brown dried blades in the meadows. Breakfast passed away without incident. Beyond the usual morning greeting, the young people remained very quiet, and gave only monosyllabic answers to Margaret's attempts at conversation. Ellice was doubtful as to the consequences of last night's escapade; it was one sign of triumph for the new governess that the child was already growing uneasy, uncertain of herself. She had an affectionate nature really, and it cost her something to steel her heart so persistently against this certainly interesting looking girl who had come to teach her. If Ellice had spoken the truth, she could have owned what she would not admit to herself, that she was longing to make friends, and to get a chance of hearing more stories; but having vaunted the fact to James and Betsy that she never meant to have a governess, the cost to her pride prevented her from giving in.