evidently girding herself up for the painful duty of narrating the
strange behaviour of her charge.

"Now, Margery, I'm going to auntie, to tell her about the locket, this
very minute, so you need not trouble about it," said Grace, as she ran
quickly upstairs to her aunt's room and closed the door.

Margery never knew exactly what passed, nor how Miss Hume's
well-regulated mind was ever reconciled to such an impulsive act on the
part of her niece. But, as she sat at her usual post by the old lady
next day, while she took her afternoon's rest, Miss Hume said rather
unexpectedly, when Margery concluded she was asleep, "Margery, you
remember my sister? Does it not strike you that Miss Campbell is getting
very like her mother? These children are a great responsibility to me; I
wish their mother had been spared," she added, rather irrelevantly, it
seemed to Margery, and then presently she fell asleep without any
reference to the locket question.

But that night, when Grace was going to bed, she told her old nurse that
her aunt had promised that when they went back to Kirklands again she
might try to find some little boys and girls to teach, and that she
would allow her to have one of the old rooms for her class. She did not
tell how eagerly she had asked that, in the meantime, she might be
allowed to try and help the neglected city children, to whose
necessities she had been awakened by such thrilling words that day,
though Miss Hume had thought it wise to restrain her impatience. But
out of that evening's events had grown the cherished plan which sent
Grace on such a chilly afternoon among the woods and braes of Kirklands
to seek any boy or girl who might need her help and friendship.