"No," Peter hastened to assure him, she has not. "But she told us she was hungry, and I got her some bread-and-butter and cake. She has done nothing wrong."
"I am glad of that, sir," the man said, civilly. He laid his hand on the little girl's arm as he spoke. "She gives me and my good wife a world of trouble," he continued; "she's not our own child, but an orphan we've adopted out of charity, a wild little thing, not very truthful—"
"I never told a lie in my life!" Grace broke in, with a flash of her brown eyes, the indignant colour rising to her cheeks.
"That's one, anyway!" retorted Max Sordello. He gripped her hard by the arm as he spoke.
"Don't you dare be rough with her!" cried Tom, indignantly.
"Rough with her!" echoed the lion-trainer, loosening his grip immediately; "why, me and my wife have always been kindness itself to her, the ungrateful little baggage! Where would she be now if we hadn't taken pity on her? Why, in the workhouse, of course! What has she been saying against us, young gentleman? Whatever it is, it isn't true. Come, speak up, Grace! Haven't we let you share our home and provided for you ever since your poor father died?"
"Yes," answered the child. She seemed about to say more, but, meeting Max Sordello's eyes, she stood trembling and silent.
"If you have anything to tell against me," said the lion-trainer, still smiling and speaking very softly, "say it before me; if not, go home!"
The little girl hesitated a minute, then, without a word, and without so much as a glance at the two boys, turned away and walked slowly along the road in the direction of the town.
"A very difficult child to manage," remarked Max Sordello, shaking his head gravely as he looked after her; "my wife and I are doing the best we can for her, but she's that disobedient that often we wish we'd let her go to the workhouse instead of adopting her."