The better understanding between Bob and his father, which had begun with the school trouble, had been a great relief to her mind: the domestic atmosphere of the whole house had been brighter and more congenial since that day. But words spoken then, and not much heeded at the time, had often recurred to her mind afterwards, at first with a sense of shock. Bob's schoolfellow had said he was the son of a gaol-bird. This announcement, coming so quickly after the loss of her necklace, had presented an ugly possibility, and at first she had not been able to shake off the misery of doubt concerning her host, and yet when she had looked at his face, and studied his personality, she had been ashamed of the wretched suspicion which had dared to lift its ugly head. In her heart of hearts she had not really doubted him--there was something indefinite in this man which breathed a hidden nobility of character. Margaret had felt she could only hope, and pray that the mystery might some day be fully explained to the world. Mrs. Medhurst had not again alluded to their confidences in regard to the loss, and Margaret felt she did not like to bring the subject up again, for fear of causing sadness. Then the unpleasant incident in connection with Bob, in spite of all her efforts to forget it, worried her more than she cared to admit to herself, for although she understood in a measure the truth concerning her employer, she felt all was not quite clear. Ellice's moods were still variable, and at times the patience of her governess was sorely tried. A ramble in the woods and "tree-stories," as she called them, often drove the stormy clouds away, and gradually a real affection sprang up in the child's heart for the teacher who could be firm and, in spite of provocation, could keep her temper. It was a great asset--that keeping calm. There was never a scene of violence, for Margaret did not need the use of hot, angry words to stem the torrent of passionate outbursts which even now sometimes fell from the child's lips. At such times Ellice was transformed from a charming, affectionate little person into a spoilt, unpleasant, and objectionable child. But if her temper was bad, her repentance was real; she would just fling herself into Margaret's arms after a storm, and exclaim, "Oh, Miss Woodford, I was nasty!--I hate myself! I don't know what makes me so horrid--I seem as if I can't be good." And just because the battle was great, Margaret's sympathy went out to her charge, and gently, gradually she led her to fight daily against the second self which troubled her, and also to pray for strength in the battle.