"I wish we were," muttered Ellen; "I know what I'd do." "What would you do?" said Miss Fortune. Ellen was silent. Her aunt repeated the question in a sharper tone. "I oughtn't to say what I was going to," said Ellen; "I'd rather not." "I don't care," said Miss Fortune; "you began, and you shall finish it. I will hear what it was." "I was going to say, if we were all free I would run away." "Well, that _is_ a beautiful, well-behaved speech! I am glad to have heard it. I admire it very much. Now what were you doing yesterday up on the Nose? Please to go on wiping. There's a pile ready for you. What were you doing yesterday afternoon?" Ellen hesitated. "Were you alone or with somebody?" "I was alone part of the time." "And who were you with the rest of the time?" "Miss Humphreys." "Miss Humphreys! what were you doing with her?" "Talking." "Did you ever see her before?" "No, ma'am." "Where did you find her?" "She found me, up on the hill." "What were you talking about?" Ellen was silent. "What were you talking about?" repeated Miss Fortune. "I had rather not tell." "And I had rather you _should_ tell--so out with it." "I was alone with Miss Humphreys," said Ellen; "and it is no matter what we were talking about--it doesn't concern anybody but her and me." "Yes, it does, it concerns me," said her aunt, "and I choose to know. What were you talking about?" Ellen was silent. "Will you tell me?" "No," said Ellen, low but resolutely. "I vow you're enough to try the patience of Job! Look here," said Miss Fortune, setting down what she had in her hands, "I _will_ know! I don't care what it was, but you shall tell me or I'll find a way to make you. I'll give you such a----" "Stop! stop!" said Ellen wildly, "you must not speak to me so! Mamma never did, and you have no _right_ to! If mamma or papa were here you would not _dare_ talk to me so." The answer to this was a sharp box on the ear from Miss Fortune's wet hand. Half stunned, less by the blow than the tumult of feeling it roused, Ellen stood a moment, and then throwing down her towel she ran out of the room, shivering with passion, and brushing off the soapy water left on her face as if it had been her aunt's very hand. Violent tears burst forth as soon as she reached her own room, tears at first of anger and mortification only; but conscience presently began to whisper, "You are wrong! you are wrong!" and tears of sorrow mingled with the others.