"O Bessie, what is the matter? what have you been doing?"
"Nothing, except I am miserable," was the gloomy answer.
Awed and subdued, the child walked beside her in silence, until they came to a favourite resting-place of theirs—an old tree that had been blown down in some winter storm and still lay beside the hedge. The branches had been chopped off, and grass and wild flowers had grown up around it, making it both a comfortable and picturesque seat. On this Bessie seated herself with Lucy beside her.
"Do tell me what is the matter; why are you so unhappy?" Placing her little hand on her knee, she looked up affectionately into her companion's face.
"They are going to send me away from here, all among strangers in a horrid town, and I shall be wretched."
"Send you away, your Papa and Mama! Why, what have you done?" the child asked in surprise.
"Nothing." And as she spoke the word she began to laugh in an hysterical, nervous sort of way. Then seeing the child's bewildered look she said, "Yes, Lucy, that's really why, because Mama says I am not getting on with Miss Gifford, that I do nothing, so they are going to send me to school."
"How unkind of them!"
"No, Mama could not be unkind, nor Papa either; they say it's for my good."
"Like what they say when they give you nasty medicine." This was not said saucily, but very gravely, for Lucy was not in a merry mood; the news she had just heard was too serious for a joke.