"Then she knows," said poor Harebell with a deep sigh. "Did she look very angry, Andy?"
"Very cold and quiet," said Andy. "What have you been doin'?"
But Harebell for a wonder would not tell him.
"Mayn't I go and see Chris?" she asked.
"Best not. I've given you the message exack'ly as it were given me!"
Harebell's tea almost choked her. She left it unfinished and went upstairs.
"It's no good," she said to herself as she sat down disconsolately in her little chair by the window, "to say I'm not frightened of Aunt Diana, because I am; and she'll say I've disobeyed her, and so I did. And I never, on my word and honour, meant to be naughty to-day. God knows about me; that is one comfort. He knows I didn't mean to be naughty. And as for Peter, he's the wickedest, meanest boy I ever knew, and I don't think I shall ever be friends with him again!"
When she heard her aunt's step at last, she stood up with a beating heart.
To her aunt, as she came into the room, Harebell looked the picture of guilt.
Mrs. Keith's face was very hard and stern. "I have come," she said, "to have some explanation from you of your conduct this afternoon. You not only directly disobeyed me, and went off to see that drunken man, but you told your uncle a lie, and said that you had my permission to do so. Do you remember what I told you when you first came here about lies?"