see how she makes away with the puddings."
—"Change of air has given her an appetite, I
suppose," said my mistress.—"Yes, indeed,
ma'am; but if it was an appetite in moderation,
I should say nothing about it; but to
see her eat in the way she does—why, ma'am,
yesterday, besides the pudding left from the
nursery. I had made another for our dinner,
and though Mary and I took only the least
morsel, there was not a bit left."—"Indeed!"
said my mistress, and left the kitchen.

It was hard work for me to keep quiet.
Twice I went towards the kitchen-door. I
felt myself burn all over with anger; but I
was struck dumb by the falsehoods I had
heard. There had been no pudding for dinner
the day before, and having had a headache, I
had eaten no meat; nor could I have been
tempted even by the savoury-looking veal
cutlets that the cook had prepared for herself
and Mary. For some time after my mistress
had left the kitchen I remained quite still;
indeed, I was scarcely able to move; then I
made a rush towards the kitchen-door,
intending to upbraid the cook with her wickedness;
but again I checked myself. I waited
till I could leave the out-house and pass up
the back stairs without being seen; then I
went into the room where I slept, threw
myself upon my little bed, and cried bitterly.

I was roused by the nurse, who had been
seeking the children's shoes to take the
children out to walk. I washed my eyes, and went
out with them. The baby was a nice chubby
little thing, about seven months old, but he
was what the nurse called "lumpish, and had
no spring," so that he was very heavy to
carry. When we went out to walk, the nurse
always carried baby till we got out of sight of
the house; then she gave him to me; and
when we returned she always took him again
at the same place. After taking one turn on
the heath "promenade," we went down by
the sand-pits, and walking on till we came
to a retired place, the nurse seated herself
near a heathy bush, and took a book. My
arms ached so very much that I should have
been glad to sit down too; but she told me
to go on, the other children following me.
After I had walked some distance, baby
awoke, and began to cry. I could not comfort
him. The more I tried, the louder he screamed,
and the two little children, frightened at his
screams, began to cry too. I turned to go
back, but we had gone further than I thought;
and the road being irregular, we had picked
our way round many tall bushes of heather,
all looking so much alike—that I did not
know which way to take. In great trouble
what to do, and scarcely being able to hold
the baby any longer, I shouted "Nurse!
nurse!" as loud as I could shout; but so great
was the noise made by the screaming of the
children, that my voice could not be heard.
Presently, however, to my great relief, the
nurse suddenly appeared from behind the
bush, near which we were sitting.

What a face of rage she had! "How dare
you," she said, "how dare you go so far?"
Then snatching the child from my arms, she
would not hear a word; but as soon as she
had made him- and the rest of the children
quiet, she went on abusing me very much
indeed.

We were still some way from home when
the church clock chimed a quarter to two.
Suddenly the nurse stopped, put her hand
into her pocket, and looked very much frightened.
"I've left the book," she said, "left it
on the bank; run—run directly—make haste
—don't lose a moment, or it may be gone."—
I stood still; for I felt angry at having been
scolded so undeservedly. "Go! go this
instant!" I was too late; the book was
gone! I scarcely dared to go back. "Not
find it!" said the nurse, when I came up to
her; "it must be there; you've done this on
purpose." When we had reached home, she
flung the baby hurriedly into my arms. "I'll
go myself," she said.

The book I had seen her take out of her
pocket, looked very much like one placed on
a side-table in the room of which I had
charge, and so great was my curiosity to
know if it really were the same, that I could
not resist going down to see; so putting the
baby (who had begun to cry again) upon the
bed, and telling the little ones to sit still for
a minute, down I went. The book was not
on the table. I was sure that I had dusted
and placed it there that very morning, and I
now felt certain that that book was the lost
one. The nurse returned, but without the
book. She seemed very much hurried, and
was very cross. She could not have been
more so if the book had been lost by any
fault of mine. She asked me if I knew the
name of it. I told her that I did not; taking
care not to mention my suspicion—nay, my
certainty—that it was the very book I had
dusted and placed on the table that morning.
The next day a great change seemed to have
come over both the nurse and the cook; their
manner was much kinder than ever it had
been before. Neither of them said a cross
word; yet I was almost certain that the nurse
had been telling the cook that I had
overheard what she had said to my mistress. The
cause of this change puzzled me at first, but I
soon suspected that they each wanted to coax
me; the one to say nothing about "the large
appetite," the other about the lost book.

Since the loss of the book, every time the
bell had rung, my heart leaped as though it
would burst through my body, and I looked
anxiously at Mary Wild when she came into
the kitchen again; but nothing came of all
this. One day, Mary, having a bad fit of
toothache, I had to wait at table. That
very afternoon mistress sent to speak to
me; she was sitting in the inner drawing-
room. Strange to say, that much as I had
thought about the book, at that very moment
I had forgotten all about it, and almost