"She is certainly very troublesome," replied Mrs. Grey, sighing. "However, we must have patience. I really think she is improving. She has not had one of these bad days in some time."
"Since when?" asked Mr. Grey.
"Since last week," answered his wife, smiling. "She used to have them every other day when she first came. But I begin to think with you that we shall have to be more decided with her. However, we will try to get on quietly to-day, so that the pleasure of the excursion may not be spoiled for poor Stella."
Meantime Stella was up-stairs coaxing Etty to stop crying and change her dress so as to be ready for their lessons at nine o'clock.
"Come, Etty, do," she urged. "You will not be ready when Miss Beach comes, and then you will have a bad mark again. Do put on your other dress."
"I won't!" said Etty, passionately. "I wish I was dead! They would never dare to treat me so if my own mother was alive, but because I am an orphan they think they can abuse me as they please."
"Oh, Etty, how can you say so? I think they are so kind."
"They may be kind enough to you, but they are not kind to me," retorted Etty. "You know they are not, but you don't care what becomes of me. If you had loved mamma, you would not be so contented here. But you never did. I do really believe you are glad she is dead, because you know she always loved me the best."
Stella could bear a good deal from Etty, but this was too much. She burst into tears, and ran out of the room.
Etty, having succeeded in hurting somebody's feelings, began to feel better herself. She knew that she had uttered a wicked falsehood, but she did not mind what she said at such times. She grew quite cheerful over the wound she had inflicted on her unoffending sister, and by the time Miss Beach rang the bell, she was ready to come down-stairs singing and as pleasant as possible, her face making a great contrast to poor Stella's red eyes and trembling lips.