'Oh, Auntie! may I come with you this morning?' she begged at once. 'I have got a whole holiday, and you did promise you would take me with you some day to see all your poor people.'
But although Aunt Margaret kissed her little niece as warmly as ever, her face did not wear its usual bright smile.
'Why have you got a holiday, Muriel?' she asked. 'It isn't a birthday, is it?'
'Oh, Miss Fane has got a headache,' said Muriel, rather hastily.
'I wonder what brought it on?' said Aunt Margaret looking at Muriel earnestly. Muriel grew very red, and looked down at her shoes, but did not answer.
'Mother has been telling me something very sad,' went on Aunt Margaret, 'She is afraid that Miss Fane's headache was caused by the great trouble she had with a certain little pupil of hers yesterday. What do you think, Muriel?'
'They were such stupid exercises—no one could do such horrid things,' muttered Muriel without looking up.
'Perhaps, if some one tried,' suggested Aunt Margaret, gently, drawing Muriel to sit beside her. 'Now, Muriel, you want to be a nurse some day, don't you?'
Muriel nodded.
'Well, it is not a very good beginning to make people ill, is it? You know if you are going to study the things I had to learn, you will have to do a great many uninteresting things, so that perhaps you had better give up the idea, if you never want to do anything that is not very nice.'