“Then,” in rather a frightened voice, for she felt that it would be a tremendous trial of her powers, “should I make them come away?” “Catch her!” muttered Hal. There was horror and disapprobation on Susan’s face. Annie stood with her mouth open; while John, throwing himself on the ground with fury, rolled over, crying out something about, “I won’t,” and “very cross;” and David lay flat on his face, puffing at his own particular oven, like a little Wind in an old picture. Sam waited, leaning on the ashen stick that served him as a poker. It was the most audacious thing he had ever heard. Rob them of their bonfire! Would that old traitor of a Purday abet her? Perhaps Purday was as much astonished as the rest; but, after all, much as the children tormented his bonfires, overset his haycocks, and disturbed his wood-pile, he did not like anyone to scold them but himself, much less the new London Lady; so he made up an odd sort of grin, and said, “No, no, Ma’am, it ain’t that they do so much harm; let ’em bide;” and he proceeded to shake on the rest of his barrowful, tumbling the weeds down over David’s cherished oven in utter disregard; but the children cried with one voice, “Hurrah! hurrah! Purday, we don’t do any harm, so don’t ever grumble again. Hurrah!” “And I don’t care for _her_, the crosspatch,” said Johnnie to Annie, never hearing or heeding Miss Fosbrook’s fervent “I am so glad!” And as long as the foolish boy remembered it, he always did believe that Miss Fosbrook was so cross as to want to hinder them from their bonfire, only Purday would not let her. Miss Fosbrook did not trouble herself to be understood; she was relieved to have done her duty, and be free to rejoice in and share the pleasure. She ran about and collected materials for Sam till she was out of breath, and joined in all the excitement as the fire showed symptoms of reviving, after being apparently crushed out by Purday. Sam and Susan, at least, believed that she had only spoken to Purday because she thought it right; but even for them to forgive interference with their bonfire privileges was a great stretch. At last she thought it time to leave them to their own devices, and seize the moment for some quiet reading; but she had not reached the house before little steps came after her, and she saw Elizabeth running fast. “They are so tiresome,” she said. “Sam won’t let me stand anywhere but where the smoke gets into my eyes, and George plagues so! May I come in with you, dear Christabel?” “You are very welcome,” said Miss Fosbrook, “but I am sorry to hear so many complaints.” “They are so cross to me,” said Bessie; “they always are.” “You must try to be cheerful and good-humoured with them, and they will leave off vexing you.” “But may I come in? It will be a nice time for my secret.”