afternoon."

"Kept in!" thought Phoebe disconsolately. She was going to be kept in
the first day! Never before had such punishment been meted out to her!
The disgrace almost overwhelmed her.

"Now I won't ever, ever, ever like her!" she thought as she bent her
head to hide the tears.

The remainder of the day was like a blurred page to her. She was glad
when the other children picked up their books and empty baskets and
kettles and started homeward.

"Cheer up," whispered David as he passed out, but she was too miserable
to smile or answer.

"Come on, David," urged Phares when the two cousins reached outdoors and
the younger one seemed reluctant to go home. "Don't stay here to pet
Phoebe when she comes out."

"Ach, the poor kid"--David was all sympathy and tenderness.

"Let her get punished. Pulling Mary's hair like that!"

"Well, Mary tattled. I was wishing Phoebe'd yank that darned kid's hair
half off."

"Mary just told the truth. You think everything Phoebe does is right and
you help her along in her temper. She needs to be punished sometimes."

"Ach, you make me tired, standing up for a tattle-tale! Anyhow, you go
on home. I'm goin' to hang round a while and see if Miss Lee does
anything mean."

Phares went on alone and the other boy stole to a window and crouched to
the ground.

Inside the room Phoebe waited tremblingly for the teacher to speak. It
seemed ages before Miss Lee walked down the aisle and stood by the low
desk.

Phoebe raised her head--the look in the dark eyes of the teacher filled
her with a sudden reversion of feeling. How could she go on hating any
one so beautiful!

"Phoebe, I'm sorry--I'm so sorry there has been any trouble the first
day and that you have been the cause of it."

"I--ach, Miss Lee," the child blurted out half-sobbingly, "Mary, she
tattled on me."

"That was wrong, of course. I made her understand that at noon. But
don't you think that pulling her hair and creating a disturbance was
equally wrong?"

"I guess so, mebbe. But I didn't mean to make no fuss. I--I--why, I just
get so mad still! I hadn't ought to pull her hair, for that hurts
vonderful much."

"Then you might tell her to-morrow how sorry you are about it."

"Yes." Phoebe looked up at the lovely face of the teacher. She felt that
some explanation of Mary's tale was necessary. "Why, now," she
stammered, "you know--you know that Mary said I said I don't like you?"

"Yes."

"Why, this summer once