In desperate haste she compared her own work with it, and made corrections here and there.
She was so absorbed that she quite failed to see another white-clad figure which had followed her noiselessly down the stairs, and stood in the doorway long enough to see what she was doing, and then went away.
Hurriedly Helen went through her evil task, and then stole back to bed, with her glittering eyes and burning cheeks.
Meantime Laura had gone, full of excitement, to her mother. Mr. Mason was away on business, and Laura crept into the empty half of her mother’s great bed.
“Mamsie,” she said, “wake up quickly, and listen.”
Patient Mrs. Mason rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and turned over. Then followed Laura’s breathless story.
“Of course she’ll win, now,” Laura said, in conclusion, “unless I tell Mademoiselle what she has done; and I suppose you wouldn’t like that, would you, mamsie?
“But it was her French that was the shakiest of any thing. Oh, did you ever see any thing quite so mean? Think of getting into your desk with her keys, and then slying off all those corrections!”
“Yes, I do think,” Mrs. Mason answered, with almost a groan.