do likewise. "Then, if she has left him for that, why should n't Mrs. Beale leave him?"
"Because she 's not such a fool!"
"Not such a fool as mamma?"
"Precisely—if you will have it. Does it look like her leaving him?" Mrs. Wix inquired. She hung fire again; then she went on with more intensity: "Do you want to know really and truly why? So that she may be his wretchedness and his punishment."
"His punishment?"—this was more than as yet Maisie could quite accept. "For what?"
"For everything. That's what will happen: he'll be tied to her forever. She won't mind in the least his hating her, and she won't hate him back. She 'll only hate us."
"Us?" the child faintly echoed.
"She 'll hate you."
"Me? Why, I brought them together!" Maisie resentfully cried.
"You brought them together." There was a completeness in Mrs. Wix's assent. "Yes; it was a pretty job. Sit down." She began to brush her pupil's hair and, as she
