and the youngest had hemmed a silk handkerchief, and neatly marked it with his name. And poor Mabel had nothing to give. Her little heart swelled even to bursting, and she stole out of the room to hide her tears, that came thick and fast.
"Come back, my little girl," said her too indulgent grandfather.
"Excuse me," said Mrs. Harcourt, "young ladies, you may leave the room." The Misses Harcourt retired.
"A very bad sign; Miss Dacre's crying shows so much envy."
Mr. Dacre did not quite agree with his daughter, but as he had never contradicted her as a child, it was not very likely he should do so now.
"You are quite ruining poor Frederick's child: she is quite a little Hottentot!"
"Oh!" thought Mr. Dacre, "I now understand poor Mabel's question!" It is unnecessary to dwell quite as long as Mrs. Harcourt did upon Mabel's deficiencies; but the result of the conversation was that with which our narrative commences, viz Mabel's going to school.
Drearily did the weeks pass with her grandfather, his existence suddenly missed its interest, and, with
