w this one's dressed, and I'll set her up to the table," said Meta,
jumping up. "Oh my!"

Something fell with a little crash on the lid of the trunk by Vi's side,
and there at her feet lay one of the beautiful old china plates broken
into a dozen pieces.

The child started up perfectly aghast, the whole extent of her
delinquency flashing upon her in that instant. "Oh, oh! what have I
done! what a wicked, wicked girl I am! what will mamma say!" And she
burst into an agony of grief and remorse.

"You didn't do it, nor I either," said Meta; stooping to gather up the
fragments, "the doll kicked it off. There, Vi, don't cry so; I'll put
the things all back just as they were, and never, never touch one of
them again."

"But you can't; because this one's broken. Oh dear, oh dear! I wish you
had let them alone, Meta. I wish, I wish I'd been a good girl and obeyed
mamma!"

"Never mind: if she goes to whip you, I'll tell her it was 'most all my
fault. But she needn't know: it won't be a story to put them back and
say nothing about it. And most likely it won't be found out for years
and years; maybe never. You see I'll just put this plate between the
others in the pile and it won't be noticed at all that it's broken;
unless somebody takes them all down to look."

"But I must tell mamma," sobbed Violet. "I couldn't hide it; I always
tell her everything; and I'd feel so wicked."

"Violet Travilla, I'd never have believed you'd be so mean as to tell
tales," remarked Meta, severely. "I'd never have played with you if I'd
known it."

"I'll not; I didn't mean that. I'll only tell on myself."

"But you can't do that without telling on me too, and I say it's real
mean. I'll never tell a story about it, but I don't see any harm in just
getting the things away and saying nothing. 'Taint as if you were
throwing the blame on somebody else," pursued Meta, gathering up the
articles abstracted from the closet and replacing them, as nearly as
possible as she had found them.

"Come, dry your eyes, Vi," she went on, "or somebody'll see you've been
crying and ask what it was about."

"But I must tell mamma," reiterated the little girl, sobbing anew.

"And make her feel worried and sorry because the plate's broken, when it
can't do any good, and she needn't ever know about it. I call that real
selfishness."

This, to Vi, was a new view of the situation. She stopped crying to
consider it.

It certainly would grieve mamma to know tha