Ellen was glad to run before, to hide her laughter. When they reached her room, Mr. Van Brunt produced a hammer out of the bag, and taking a handful of nails from his pocket, put up a fine row of them along her closet wall, then, while she hung up her dresses, he went on to the garret, and Ellen heard him hammering there, too. Presently he came down, and they returned to the kitchen. "What's all that knocking?" said Miss Fortune. "I've been driving some nails," said Mr. Van Brunt, coolly. "Up in the garret?" "Yes, and in Miss Ellen's closet; she said she wanted some." "You should ha' spoken to _me_ about it," said Miss Fortune to Ellen. There was displeasure enough in her face: but she said no more, and the matter blew over much better than Ellen had feared. Ellen steadily pursued her plans of studying, in spite of some discouragements. A letter, written about ten days after, gave her mother an account of her endeavours and of her success. It was a despairing account. Ellen complained that she wanted help to understand, and lacked time to study; that her aunt kept her busy, and, she believed, took pleasure in breaking her off from her books; and she bitterly said, her mother must expect to find an ignorant little daughter when she came home. It ended with "Oh, if I could just see you, and kiss you, and put my arms round you, Mamma, I'd be willing to die!" This letter was dispatched the next morning by Mr. Van Brunt; and Ellen waited and watched with great anxiety for his return from Thirlwall in the afternoon. CHAPTER XV. Mother earth rather than aunt Fortune. The afternoon was already half spent when Mr. Van Brunt's ox- cart was seen returning. Ellen was standing by the little gate that opened on the chip-yard; and with her heart beating anxiously, she watched the slow-coming oxen; — how slowly they came! At last they turned out of the lane, and drew the cart up the ascent; and stopping beneath the apple tree, Mr. Van Brunt leisurely got down, and flinging back his whip, came to the gate. But the little face that met him there quivering with hope and fear made his own quite sober. "I'm really _very_ sorry, Miss Ellen" — he began. That was enough. Ellen waited to hear no more, but turned away, the cold chill of disappointment coming over her heart. She had borne the former delays pretty well, but this was one too many, and she felt sick. She went round to the front stoop, where scarcely ever anybody came, and sitting down on the steps, wept sadly and despairingly. It might have been half an hour or more after, that the kitchen door slowly opened, and Ellen came in. Wishing her aunt should not see her swollen eyes, she was going quietly through to her own room, when Miss Fortune called her. Ellen stopped. Miss Fortune was sitting before the fire with an open letter lying in her lap, and another in her hand. The latter she held out to Ellen, saying, "Here, child, come and take this."