“Good-bye, little master,” he said, in rather a shamefaced way.
“Good-bye,” said Ralph. “And Father will give you money: I’ll see he do.”
Thus Ralph returned after his great adventure and Harriet and he went together, side by side, into Mrs Burton’s private sitting-room. There Harriet told all.
“I don’t want the pony,” she said in conclusion; “and I’m not a bit fit to be a school-mother! But I love him all the same.”
“I must punish you, Harriet,” said Mrs Burton. “I should not do my duty else. For the remainder of the term, Robina will be Ralph’s school-mother; but you shall see him every day, and it remains with Ralph himself to decide whether he loves you in future or not.”
“Oh, don’t I love her just this very instant-minute,” said Ralph: and he flung his arms round Harriet’s neck. Thus Harriet found out what real love meant. She found it out in her pain, the pain she had suffered during that lonely night—she found it out also in her joy—the joy that had come to her when she saw Ralph again.
The pony and the habit and the side-saddle did not matter a bit to Harriet now, for she had more—the true heart of Ralph himself. Love can destroy jealousy and all bad things in the heart. So it was with Harriet, even though Robina became the little boy’s school-mother, and even though she won the big prize. Harriet was happy.