A THUNDERSTORM. 33

child. That was the only thing that ever
made her unhappy now, for she had forgotten
all those little stings and pricks of conscience
she used to feel when she remembered Miss
Raynevr’s cat or the accident on the ice.

For a long time she had kept that beautiful
book out of sight, but time had made so much
difference in her feelings that she brought it
out one fine morning in the first week of
October, and asked Harry if he would like
her to read it to him.

“It’s Saturday and mother doesn’t want me,
so we can go straight off somewhere and read.”

The little boy was delighted with the idea,
and they set off in good time to find a “nice
lonely place.”

“T tell you what, Harry, we'll go into Croft
Wood,” said Nellie suddenly. “It isn’t very
far, and we sha’n’t be disturbed.”

“But we mayn’t—may we?” asked the boy.

“Oh, yes, I should think so. They’ve taken
down all those bushes off the gate, and it isn’t
padlocked any longer; so of course that must
mean people may go in. Besides, I saw ever
so many coming out the other day.”

Harry was easily convinced and said no
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