Aunt Anne bent a little towards the child, with a soft look in her eyes, yet she said—"I'm afraid I can't take the flowers to-day, Hecla. I'm sorry. I should like them—but I must not."
Hecla stood still, dismayed. She partly understood.
"You may go, Elisabeth. I am glad to know that it was not your fault."
And Elisabeth disappeared.
"Dear little Hecla, don't you know that love is best shown by doing what is right—by obeying orders? I love to know that you love me; but I want to see you thinking first of doing rightly. And then—to have the flowers would be so nice. But not if they made you disobey and get others into trouble. Now you had better run upstairs and wash your hands. After dinner you must change your frock, but there is not time now."
Hecla was glad to hurry away, for something had made a lump creep into her throat; and she hated that feeling of a lump. She washed her hands in a great hurry, and tried to brush off some of the muddy streaks. And then, to get rid more completely of the lump, she raced round and round the room several times, and jumped on and off a chair as hard as she could jump—never once thinking of her Aunt Millicent in the room below. It certainly did make her feel better, though not yet happy; for she knew that she had not done as she ought, out-of-doors; and when she glanced towards the poor little rejected snowdrops, lying on her table, the lump wanted to come back.
It was not surprising that, when she got downstairs, Miss Storey asked, "What have you been doing, Hecla,—to make such extraordinary noises overhead?"
"Oh, I only—jumped, auntie."
"Pray don't make such a noise another time."
Early dinner that day was rather a solemn meal. Miss Storey did not say anything about the late return, as she knew that Miss Anne had already spoken; but the usual chatter on Hecla's part was stopped, and the little girl was made to feel herself just a little in disgrace.