I went from the store into the kitchen, where I found the poor girl at the stove. She had been crying, and I had never before seen her look so sad and hopeless.
"What is the matter, dear Flora?" I asked, seating myself at her side.
"Nothing, Buckland."
"You have been crying, Flora."
"I couldn't help it."
"What made you cry?"
"I don't want to make trouble," she replied, the tears coming to her eyes again; "but I wish it was October, that we might leave this house. I'm sure Clarence does not know how much we suffer."
"Has Mrs. Fishley been abusing you again?"
She looked at me, and wiped away her tears before she answered.
"I did not mean to tell you of it, Buckland; but she did shake me again, and she hurt me very much," sobbed she.