"Where is Angel?" Mr. Bailey asked, looking around, and missing the little girl.
"In the studio with father," was the brief response.
"Poor child, poor child! I was sorry to see her sad eyes and tear-stained face at supper. Ah, Gerald, there are very few boys who have such a loving little sister as you have!"
Gerald muttered something unintelligible; perhaps he thought he had ill repaid Angel for her love. Seeing he did not wish to talk, Mr. Bailey took up a newspaper and commenced to read. Presently Angel returned to bid her uncle good-night. He kissed her with great affection, and after saying good-night, added his usual "God bless you, child!" The little girl scarcely heeded the words this evening, so preoccupied was she with her own thoughts. She neither spoke to nor glanced at Gerald, who, however, got up and followed her out of the room and upstairs.
"Aren't you going to say good-night to me, Angel?" he asked reproachfully.
She turned as she opened the bedroom door and looked at him as she replied coldly—
"Oh yes! Good-night, Gerald."
"Say you forgive me," he pleaded; "do, dear!"
But she shook her head decidedly, and, entering her room, shut the door in his face. He stood outside for a few minutes, thinking she would perhaps come out presently and make friends with him; but as the door remained closed, he went away, much disturbed in mind at his sister's conduct.
Angel, having quickly undressed and said her prayers, which were merely vain repetitions that night, jumped into bed, and lay thinking gloomily of the events of the last few hours. She recalled the look of passion she had seen on her brother's face when he had struck her, and told herself she never, never could forgive him that blow. She was certain there was not the least spark of affection in his heart for her. He only treated her well when he wanted her to do something for him. He did not really love her. All this she kept repeating to herself over and over again; and her anger against him did not soften into better or kinder feelings to-night, on the contrary, she nursed the resentment which the blow he had struck her had planted in her heart, and exaggerated every little failing of his which she had regarded as trifling before.