They tiptoed away as silent as ghosts. Mrs. Benjamin put a heavy coat about her shoulders, and went out. The clearing where the bonfire had been, lay on a knoll above the house. As she approached it she saw silhouetted against the moon a small figure, head bent upon drawn-up knees, silent, “lonely as a cloud.”
“My dear, thee will take thy death of cold,” she said gently, leaning over the girl.
She lifted tragic, pitiful eyes to Mrs. Benjamin’s.
“Have you come to send me home?”
“No, I’ve come to take thee to bed,”—simply.
She drew the girl to her feet, put her hand on her shoulder; and together, in silence, they approached the house. She led her to the fire and chaffed her cold hands.
“You ought to punish me,” said Isabelle at last.
“My dear, when any one at Hill Top breaks the rules, or acts wilfully, we ask her to punish herself.”
Isabelle could scarcely believe her ears.