Harold could not guess all that her mistaken sternness cost his mother. With a cry like that of a wounded animal he rushed away, and Helen stepped forward. "Please don't burn those things," she said, "Agatha really did provoke him. I should have been quite as angry, perhaps angrier, if anyone had treated me as she did Harold." "I am quite ready to believe that, Helen," returned Mrs. Bayden with a curious smile. "When you remember the terrible consequences of your own conduct, you will not wonder that I am anxious to save Harold from the scourge of an ungoverned temper." Helen shrank back as though she had received a blow. Mrs. Bayden was quite right, she thought. Her interference could never do any good. But she was still smarting under the sense of injustice, although she was not the sufferer upon this occasion. "Why didn't you tell your mother that Harold wasn't to blame?" she asked Grace indignantly when Mrs. Bayden and Agatha had gone, and those two were left alone. Grace shrugged her shoulders. "It wouldn't have been any good," she said; "mother always takes Agatha's part. Besides, she and Harold are always quarrelling. It's just as often his fault as hers. I wish he was at school like the other boys. But come along out into the garden. We can take books with us and read." Nothing loth, Helen agreed. They found a shady spot, and Grace, who liked nothing so much as reading, was soon deep in her book. But Helen was restless and ill at ease. Her attention wandered, and she could think of nothing but Harold. "I think I will go for a stroll," she said presently. "You needn't come. I like wandering about by myself." Grace was too comfortable to move. She merely nodded her assent, and went on with her book. Thus left free to follow her own devices, Helen searched all over the garden for Harold, but without success. She was just giving up the search in despair when she heard a rustling noise inside the shrubbery. Pushing her way amongst the bushes with some difficulty, she came upon a spot that had been cleared, and there she found Harold digging away with might and main. He was so intent upon his work that he did not at first notice her approach, and she watched him with some amusement as he flung down each spadeful of earth, striking it sharply several times with his spade as he did so. At length he became aware that he was no longer alone, and looked round sharply. "However did you find me out?" he asked. "I have been looking for you, and I heard a noise in the shrubbery and guessed that I might find you here." "I'm glad you've come. I liked you directly I saw you; and you took my part." Helen was silent. She had rather a wise little head on her shoulders, and an instinct warned her not to discuss his sister's behaviour with Harold. "Don't you wonder what I'm doing?" he went on. "You are digging, aren't you?"