Ellen obeyed and was mute; while Miss Fortune dashed round with a display of energy there seemed to be no particular call for, and speedily had everything in its place and all straight and square about the kitchen. When she was, as a last thing, brushing the crumbs, from the floor into the fire, she broke the silence again. The old grandmother sat in the chimney-corner, but she seldom was very talkative in the presence of her stern daughter. "What did you come home for to-night? Why didn't you stay at Mr. Humphreys'?" "Miss Alice didn't ask me." "That means, I suppose, that you would if she had?" "I don't know, ma'am; Miss Alice wouldn't have asked me to do anything that wasn't right." "Oh no! of course not;--Miss Alice is a piece of perfection; everybody says so; and I suppose you'd sing the same song, who haven't seen her three times." "Indeed I would," said Ellen; "I could have told that in one seeing. I'd do anything in the world for Miss Alice." "Ay--I dare say, that's the way of it. You can show not one bit of goodness or pleasantness to the person that does the most for you and has all the care of you, but the first stranger that comes along you can be all honey to them, and make yourself out too good for common folks, and go and tell great tales how you are used at home, I suppose. I am sick of it!" said Miss Fortune, setting up the andirons and throwing the tongs and shovel into the corner, in a way that made the iron ring again. "One might as good be a stepmother at once, and done with it! Come, mother, it's time for you to go to bed." The old lady rose with the meekness of habitual submission, and went upstairs with her daughter. Ellen had time to bethink herself while they were gone, and resolved to lose no time when her aunt came back in doing what she had to do. She would fain have persuaded herself to put it off. "It is late," she said to herself, "it isn't a good time. It will be better to go to bed now, and ask Aunt Fortune's pardon to-morrow." But conscience said, "_First_ be reconciled to thy brother." Miss Fortune came down presently. But before Ellen could get any words out, her aunt prevented her. "Come, light your candle and be off; I want you out of the way; I can't do anything with half-a-dozen people about." Ellen rose. "I want to say something to you first, Aunt Fortune." "Say it and be quick; I haven't time to stand talking." "Aunt Fortune," said Ellen, stumbling over her words--"I want to tell you that I know I was wrong this morning, and I am sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me." A kind of indignant laugh escaped from Miss Fortune's lips. "It's easy talking; I'd rather have acting. I'd rather see people mend their ways than stand and make speeches about them. Being sorry don't help the matter much." "But I'll try not to do so any more," said Ellen.