"It's—it's a letter I've sent to Miss Grant," said Jill.
Mona took the copy-book from her.
"Oh, Jill!" she exclaimed in real distress. "This is really very naughty of you. You may make a great deal of mischief, and annoy Miss Grant extremely. I don't know how we can put it straight."
"I don't see what I've done wrong," said Jill stubbornly.
"Little girls have no business to interfere with grown-up people. I don't know what Miss Grant will think; I must see Miss Falkner. Ask her to come here, and you had better go straight to bed."
"It's always the way," Jill confided to Bumps when they were both in bed that evening; "everything I do turns out wrong. Children can't be kind to grown-up people. It's no good to try. They won't let them. And Mr. Arnold will never have a wife, if he doesn't have Miss Grant. There's no one else like her."
"But you sent her a letter," said Bumps comfortingly.
"Yes, but Mona is going to do something dreadful to-morrow. I know she is."
As a matter of fact Mona did nothing. She felt powerless to act. Miss Webb counselled silence. She seemed to be enjoying the whole thing; Miss Falkner spent nearly an hour in bringing Jill to reason, but she repented of some of her words when they happened to meet Mr. Arnold in their morning walk. Jill flew to him at once.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I really did it for the best. I told Miss Grant to go to you, but Miss Falkner says I oughtn't to have anything to do with husbands and wives. She says Miss Grant will be made uncomfortable and so will you; and I wouldn't make you uncomfortable for worlds!"