"Would they really, Miss Patten?" she asked in so serious a voice that
the teacher believed for the moment that she would soon know the exact
reason why Sylvia had fled from the school; and she was right, she was
about to hear it, but not from Sylvia. There was a little silence in the
quiet pleasant room where the scent of jessamine and honey-suckle came
through the open windows, and no sound disturbed the two at Sylvia's
desk. Sylvia was assuring herself that she really ought to tell Miss
Patten; but somehow she could not speak. If she broke a promise, even to
an enemy, as she felt Elinor Mayhew to be, she would despise herself.
But Elinor would have to apologize for the way she had treated Sylvia.
Just at this moment of hesitation a round woolly head appeared at one of
the open windows. Two small black hands rested on the window-sill, and a
moment later Estralla, in her faded blue dress, was standing directly in
front of Miss Patten and Sylvia.

"I begs pardon, Missy Teacher. But I knows my missy ain't done nuffin'
to be kept shut up for. An' I knows why she runned off yesterd'y. Yas'm.
I heered dat tall dark girl an' nuther girl sayin' as how Missy Sylvia
was a Yankee. Yas'm; and as how they was glad they called her names.
Yas'm, I sho' heered 'em say those very words," and Estralla bobbed her
head, and stood trembling in every limb before "Missy Teacher," not
knowing what would happen to her, but determined that the little white
girl, who had protected her, and given her the fine pink dress, should
not he punished.

"Oh, Estralla!" whispered Sylvia, her face brightening.

Miss Rosalie stood up, and rested her hand on Sylvia's shoulder.