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100 not nice, is it, when one is beginning to be grown up, to be kept prisoner for a fortnight?"

"He is a wretch," says George, vigorously, "how he can have the heart"

"I want to ask you a question," I say, looking up at his face, reassured by the unsmiling look it wears—" did you—did you—laugh much?"

"About what, dear?"

"That—that morning, when we went out blackberrying."

No," he says, gently, "I was far too angry for that."

"And Bobbie Silver?" I ask, with my head turned away, "did he laugh?"

"I don't think so," says George, with some slight confusion in his voice, that plainly tells me that whatever he did not do, the others did.

"I shall never forget it," I say, turning my red face full upon him—"never! You see I am just beginning to be grown up"

"Never mind!" he says, gently, "it is he who ought to be ashamed of himself, not you!"

"And you will promise," I say, anxiously, never to laugh, never even to think of it, or I could never feel comfortable with you?"

"I promise," he says, gravely; "and now tell me, is it true you are going to school?"

"Quite true!" I answer, "horribly true! To-day is Friday, and I am going next Wednesday." I thought I had no such things as tears about me, but somehow they have got into my voice, and as I turn my head away, George takes my hand with a gentleness that Jack never knew, and keeps it.

"I wish you were my brother," I say, with a sob; "of course I could never have loved any one so well as Jack, but you would have been kinder to me!"