“‘Give him to me, now,’ said the governess, endeavoring to lift him from my arms. But I said, ‘No; cruel woman!’ She looked angry, but I was not moved. ‘Untie my bonnet-strings,’ I spoke to the chambermaid; and the girl took off my bonnet.
“‘Jenny,’ said I to the chambermaid,—I knew her name,—‘Jenny, I want you to go for Willy’s father.’
“Jenny did not hesitate a minute. ‘There’s no use in sending for his father,’ said the governess. But we didn’t mind what she said. When Willy’s father came, she was gone. He was very much distressed when he saw his dear little boy, and very angry when I told him about the dark closet. After that I became Willy’s nurse and teacher. But he did not stay with us very long. The angels came for him one lovely summer evening, and bore him up to the heavenly land; and he is now happy again with his mother.”
Tears came into the eyes of all the children when Florence Harper ceased speaking. She had found the way to their hearts, and, not only this, had lifted for them just so much of the veil that concealed her true character as to let them see enough to win something of love and something of respectful consideration.
The book was still in the hand of George, and, as he let his eyes fall from the face of Miss Harper, they rested on the open page. Nothing was said by the latter. A few moments of silence passed, and then George, in a low but rather earnest voice, said over his lesson.
The young governess had conquered.
CHAPTER III.
TRIALS.
It was late when Mrs. Dainty came home. Her husband had already arrived, and was waiting for his dinner. George and Madeline, pleased as children usually are when the visiting mother returns from her recreations, crowded around her with their questions and complaints, and annoyed and hindered her to a degree that broke down her small stock of patience.
“Miss Harper!” she called, in a fretful voice, going to her chamber-door.
The governess heard, and answered from her room, leaving it at the same time, and coming down toward the chamber of Mrs. Dainty.