“All the same, I do not think you will make me unhappy while your father is away.”
Some one called the governess hastily; she ran out of the room. Phyllis continued her breakfast, feeling extremely discontented.
“Oh, I do wish Dad would come back!” she said to herself. “It is more than horrid to have him away. What am I to do? I know he would not mind my playing with the children.”
As these thoughts came to her, she saw her father’s letter lying upon Miss Fleet’s plate. Phyllis was a thoroughly honourable child, and she would not have read the letter for worlds, but just then, as if to tempt her to the uttermost, a puff of wind came in through the open window. The letter, written on thin paper, fluttered to the floor, and as Phyllis sprang to pick it up, her eyes fell on the very words she was not meant to see. She turned very white, and a look of resolution crossed her face.
“So Father approves. Then I am quite right, and I will disobey to-morrow,” she thought.
She put the letter back on Miss Fleet’s plate, and a moment later her governess came in.
“Fleetie,” said the little girl, “do you know what has happened since you left the room? This letter was blown off your plate by a gust of wind. I jumped up to put it back again, and I saw the words in which Father said that he was glad that I had playmates, so after that of course you will not object to my playing with the Rectory children?”
Miss Fleet’s face turned very red.
“Am I to believe this story or not, Phyllis?” she said. “Is it possible that you did not read the letter on purpose?”
“I have told you just the very exact truth,” replied Phyllis. “You can believe it or not, as you please.”