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“Yes, but I forgot; and I couldn’t help it, indeed, Tom. I’m so very sorry,” said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast.

“You’re a naughty girl,” said Tom severely, “and I’m sorry I bought you the fish-line. I don’t love you.”

“O Tom, it’s very cruel,” sobbed Maggie. “I’d forgive you if you forgot anything–I wouldn’t mind what you did–I’d forgive you and love you.”

“Yes, you’re a silly; but I never do forget things–I don’t.”

“Oh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break,” said Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging to Tom’s arm, and laying her wet cheek on his shoulder.

Tom shook her off. “Now, Maggie, you just listen. Aren’t I a good brother to you?”

“Ye-ye-es,” sobbed Maggie.

“Didn’t I think about your fish-line all this quarter, and mean to buy it, and saved my money o’ purpose, and wouldn’t go halves in the toffee, and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn’t?”

“Ye-ye-es–and I–lo-lo-love you so, Tom.”

“But you’re a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my lozenge-box; and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish-line down when I’d set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through my kite, all for nothing.”

“But I didn’t mean,” said Maggie; “I couldn’t help it.”

“Yes, you could,” said Tom, “if you’d minded what you were doing. And you’re a naughty girl, and you shan’t go fishing with me to-morrow.”

With this Tom ran away from Maggie towards the mill, meaning to greet Luke there, and complain to him of Harry.

“Oh, he is cruel!” Maggie sobbed aloud. She would stay up in the attic and starve herself–hide herself behind the tub, and stay there all night; and then they would all be frightened, and Tom would be sorry.

Thus Maggie thought in the pride of her heart, as she crept behind the tub; but presently she began to cry again at the idea that they didn’t mind her being there.

Meanwhile, Tom was too much interested in his talk with Luke, and in going the round of the mill, to think of Maggie at all. But when he had been called in to tea, his father said, “Why, where’s the little wench?” And Mrs. Tulliver, almost at the same moment, said, “Where’s your little sister?”

“I don’t know,” said Tom. He didn’t want to “tell” of Maggie, though he was angry with her; for Tom Tulliver was a lad of honour.

“What! hasn’t she been playing with you all this while?” said the father. “She’d been thinking o’ nothing but your coming home.”

“I haven’t seen her this two hours,” says Tom.

“Goodness heart! she’s got drownded,” exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver, rising from her seat and running to the window.

“Nay, nay, she’s none drownded,” said Mr. Tulliver.–“You’ve been naughty to her, I doubt, Tom?”

“I’m sure I haven’t, father,” said Tom quickly. “I think she’s in the house.”

“Perhaps up in that attic,” said Mrs. Tulliver, “a-singing and talking to herself, and forgetting all about meal-times.”

“You go and fetch her down, Tom,” said Mr. Tulliver, rather sharply. “And be good to her, do you hear? Else I’ll let you know better.”

Maggie, who had taken refuge in the attic, knew Tom’s step, and her heart began to beat with the shock of hope. But he only stood still on the top of the stairs and said, “Maggie, you’re to come down.” Then she rushed to him and clung round his neck, sobbing, “O Tom, please forgive me! I can’t bear it. I will always be good–always remember things. Do love me–please, dear Tom?” And the boy quite forgot his desire to punish her as much as she deserved; he actually began to kiss her in return, and say,–

“Don’t cry, then, Magsie; here, eat a bit o’ cake.”

Maggie’s sobs began to subside, and she put out her mouth for the cake and bit a piece; and then Tom bit a piece, just for company, and they ate together, and rubbed each other’s cheeks and brows and noses together while they ate like two friendly ponies.