Lucy had not gone very far when she saw Bessie coming towards her, not walking along briskly and brightly as usual, but with a lagging step and drooping head, so unlike her usual self that even Lucy, full as she was of her own grievance, was struck by it.
"O Bessie, what is the matter? what have you been doing?"
"Nothing, except I am miserable," was the gloomy answer.
Awed and subdued, the child walked beside her in silence, until they came to a favourite resting-place of theirs--an old tree that had been blown down in some winter storm and still lay beside the hedge. The branches had been chopped off, and grass and wild flowers had grown up around it, making it both a comfortable and picturesque seat. On this Bessie seated herself with Lucy beside her.
"Do tell me what is the matter; why are you so unhappy?" Placing her little hand on her knee, she looked up affectionately into her companion's face.
"They are going to send me away from here, all among strangers in a horrid town, and I shall be wretched."
"Send you away, your Papa and Mama! Why, what have you done?" the child asked in surprise.
"Nothing." And as she spoke the word she began to laugh in an hysterical, nervous sort of way. Then seeing the child's bewildered look she said, "Yes, Lucy, that's really why, because Mama says I am not getting on with Miss Gifford, that I do nothing, so they are going to send me to school."
"No, Mama could not be unkind, nor Papa either; they say it's for my good."
"Like what they say when they give you nasty medicine." This was not said saucily, but very gravely, for Lucy was not in a merry mood; the news she had just heard was too serious for a joke.
"Only think," said Bessie, looking round her with loving, admiring eyes, "to live among streets and houses, and to leave all these beautiful fields and trees--oh, it is cruel! I can never be happy away from here." Sure of a sympathising listener in her little companion, she poured forth all her sorrows for the present and fears for the future.
The prospect of dear kind Bessie going away saddened little Lucy, and so filled her thoughts that it drove away the remembrance of her own disappointment, and she quite forgot to tell her of all that had happened, and that she had come out to meet her with the full intention of telling. When they parted at the garden gate, Bessie looked happier, though I fear not one whit more resigned to the prospect in store for her.