"Now, Ellen, dear, you _must_ go; I dare not keep you any longer. It will be too late now, I fear, before you reach home." Quick they mounted the little path again, and soon were at the house; and Ellen was putting on her things. "Next Tuesday, remember--but before that! Sunday--you are to spend Sunday with me; come bright and early." "How early?" "Oh, as early as you please--before breakfast--and our Sunday morning breakfasts aren't late, Ellen; we have to set off betimes to go to church." Kisses and good-byes; and then Ellen was running down the road at a great rate, for twilight was beginning to gather, and she had a good way to go. She ran till out of breath; then walked a while to gather breath; then ran again. Running down hill is a pretty quick way of travelling; so before very long she saw her aunt's house at a distance. She walked now. She had come all the way in good spirits, though with a sense upon her mind of something disagreeable to come; when she saw the house this disagreeable something swallowed up all her thoughts, and she walked leisurely on, pondering what she had to do, and what she was like to meet in the doing of it. "If Aunt Fortune should be in a bad humour--and say something to vex me--but I'll not be vexed. But it will be very hard to help it; but I _will not_ be vexed; I have done wrong, and I'll tell her so, and ask her to forgive me; it will be hard--but I'll do it--I'll say what I ought to say, and then, however she takes it, I shall have the comfort of knowing I have done right." "But," said conscience, "you must not say it stiffly and proudly; you must say it humbly, and as if you really felt and meant it." "I will," said Ellen. She paused in the shed and looked through the window to see what was the promise of things within. Not good; her aunt's step sounded heavy and ominous; Ellen guessed she was not in a pleasant state of mind. She opened the door--no doubt of it--the whole air of Miss Fortune's figure, to the very handkerchief that was tied round her head, spoke displeasure. "She isn't in a good mood," said Ellen, as she went upstairs to leave her bonnet and cape there; "I never knew her to be good-humoured when she had that handkerchief on." She returned to the kitchen immediately. Her aunt was busied in washing and wiping the dishes. "I have come home rather late," said Ellen pleasantly; "shall I help you, Aunt Fortune?" Her aunt cast a look at her. "Yes, you may help me. Go and put on a pair of white gloves and a silk apron, and then you'll be ready." Ellen looked down at herself. "Oh, my merino! I forgot about that. I'll go and change it." Miss Fortune said nothing, and Ellen went. When she came back the things were all wiped, and as she was about to put some of them away, her aunt took them out of her hands, bidding her "go and sit down!"