“Well, I believe I’ll go and play now with the girls out there under the trees,” he said, and ran out whistling and laughing.
But Ethel lingered behind. She had brought no work with her, but seemed inclined to stay with the ladies.
“Sit down in this low rocking-chair, dear, and tell us what you have been doing with yourself for the last week or two, that you have not been in to see us,” said Mrs. Keith, in a kindly, caressing tone.
“Oh, thank you, ma’am, I have wanted to come over here so badly! But it is just as Harry said, we weren’t permitted,” said Ethel, taking the offered chair. “Mrs. Coote always ordered us to stay on the other side of the garden. She didn’t say why, and we are never allowed to ask that question.”
“And that has been ever since the day we heard such dreadful screams from Harry and saw people running to the parsonage door and windows to find out what ailed him,” said Mrs. Keith. “We were told that Mr. Coote was beating him, and it seems it was true?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Ethel, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, I thought he was just killing him! and for next to nothing. He’s such a little fellow, and wanted to play when he was told to study his lesson. It was hot and close in the house, you know, and looked so pleasant out of doors!”
“Yes. The little fellow ought to have attended better to his work, it is true, and taken his recreation when school hours were over,” said Mrs. Keith, “but I cannot think he deserved treatment so severe as was given him, and if I were in your place, Ethel, I should write to my uncles and tell them all the facts. I think they would manage in some way to prevent a repetition of such severe punishment, especially for so slight an offence.”
“Yes, ma’am, I have been wanting to write to my uncles and tell them everything about it, but I couldn’t, because I have no pen, ink, or paper, no postage stamp, no money to buy anything with, and even if I had I wouldn’t be permitted to send a letter without Mr. or Mrs. Coote reading it first. And if they found I’d written all that to my uncles they’d whip me for doing it and tear my letter up instead of sending it, or maybe put it in the fire.”
“Well, dear child, if you want to write such a letter, I will furnish you now with all the materials needed, and mail it for you when it is done; because your uncles ought to be informed of the cruel treatment received by their nephew and nieces.” Mrs. Keith rose as she spoke, opened her writing desk, took from it pen, paper, and stamped envelope, and made Ethel seat herself at the table.
Ethel’s eyes sparkled. She took from her pocket the envelope containing the address of the Eldon brothers, and was about to seat herself before the desk; but a sudden thought seemed to strike her.