made her cry. There was something more.

She was saying in a thick, soft voice, "It was wrong of you, my darling."

Suddenly she bent her tall straightness. "Rose campion," she said, parting
the stems with her long, thin fingers. "Look, Hatty, how _beautiful_
they are. Run away and put the poor things in water."

She was so quiet, so quiet, and her quietness hurt far more than if she
had been angry.

She must have gone straight back into the house to Papa. Harriett knew,
because he sent for her. He was quiet, too.... That was the little, hiding
voice he told you secrets in.... She stood close up to him, between his
knees, and his arm went loosely round her to keep her there while he
looked into her eyes. You could smell tobacco, and the queer, clean man's
smell that came up out of him from his collar. He wasn't smiling; but
somehow his eyes looked kinder than if they had smiled.

"Why did you do it, Hatty?"

"Because--I wanted to see what it would feel like."

"You mustn't do it again. Do you hear?--you mustn't do it."

"Why?"

"Why? Because it makes your mother unhappy. That's enough why."

But there was something more. Mamma had been frightened. Something to do