"I hate him! I'd like to beat him! the old tyrant!" interrupted Lulu, in a burst of passion.
"O Lu! I'm sure he's been kind to us; they're all kind to us when we're good," expostulated Grace. "But what has happened to make you so angry, and why aren't you eating your supper with the rest?"
"Do you think I'd go and sit at the table with them when they won't have you and Max there, too?"
"What about Max? did he do something wrong, too?"
"No; it wasn't anything wicked; he just bought some wood for his carving with some of his own money."
"But maybe he went without leave?" Gracie said, half inquiringly.
"Yes, that was it; he forgot to ask. A very little thing to punish him for, I'm sure; but Mr. Dinsmore (I sha'n't call him grandpa) says he must stay in his own room till this time to-morrow."
"Why," said Gracie, "that's worse than mamma's punishment to me for—for doing such a wicked, wicked thing!"
"Yes, she's not such a cruel tyrant. He'd have beaten you black and blue. I hope she won't tell him about it."
A terrified look came into Gracie's eyes, and she burst out crying again.