unrestrained and quarrelsome; Charlie had offended Kate, she had
struck him, and Mary coming on them, grieved and hurt at their
conduct at such a time, had punished Kate for the blow, but missed
perception of Charlie's offence; and the notion of injustice had
caused the shrieking cries and violent sobs that had brought Mr.
Wardour from the study in grave sorrowful severity.

What she had heard afterwards from him about not making poor Mary's
task harder, and what she had heard from Mary about not paining him,
had really restrained her; and she had thought such outbreaks passed
by among the baby faults she had left behind, and was the more
grieved and ashamed in consequence. She felt it a real exposure:
she remembered her young friends' surprised and frightened eyes, and
not only had no doubt their mother would really think her too naughty
to be their playfellow, but almost wished that it might be so--she
could never, never bear to see them again.

She heard the street door close after them, she heard the carriage
drive away; she felt half relieved; but then she hid her face in the
pillow, and cried more quietly, but more bitterly.

Then some one knocked; she would not answer. Then came a voice,
saying, "Katharine." It was Aunt Barbara's, but it was rather
wavering. She would not answer, so the door was opened, and the
steps, scarcely audible in the rustling of the silk, came in; and
Kate felt that her aunt was looking at her, wondered whether she had
better put out her head, ask pardon, and have it over, but was
afraid; and presently heard the moire antique go sweeping away again.

And then the foolish child heartily wished she had spoken, and was