you to tell me?" said the principal quietly.
"Why did Miss Ames send you to me?"

"I don't know where to begin," complained Sarah forlornly.

"Don't be afraid--there is nothing to be afraid of," said Mr.
Oliver. "Just tell me everything that has happened and I promise to
listen to you and believe you."

Sarah, as Doctor Hugh had discovered, was morally not very brave.
She was afraid of people and though the Willis will was as strong in
her as in any of the others, she would not come out openly and
demand her way. Rather Sarah would do as she pleased and shirk the
consequences wherever possible. The doctor had had several little
talks with her on this subject of fear and he was gradually teaching
her to acknowledge her mistakes and wrong doings and patiently
explaining at every opportunity the rules of fair play.

"It is both cowardly and contemptible to let someone else be blamed
for what you have done," he said once to her. "I understand that you
are not really a coward, Sarah--you have to fight an extra enemy
called Fear. So when you do wrong and see a chance to escape blame
and punishment and refuse to wriggle out, you are really braver than
the girl who isn't afraid to say she did it. And every time you
conquer Fear, Sarah, you've made the next conquest easier. You'll
find that is so."

So this morning, in the principal's office, Sarah remembered what
Doctor Hugh had said. She wanted dreadfully to retreat into one of
her obstinate, sulky silences, and refuse to answer questions. She
was afraid--afraid of a severe scolding and the disgrace of a public
expulsion. Her knees were wobbling, but she slipped to her feet and
stood facing Mr. Oliver bravely.

"If you're going to expel me," she said clearly, "tell Hilda French
I wanted her to have my pencil box."

And then the tears came.

She cried and cried and as she wept she told the story and though
drawings of leaves and paint boxes and middy blouse pockets and
snakes and paper weights seemed to be hopelessly mixed in her
sobbing conversation, Mr. Oliver, in some miraculous fashion, pieced
together the disconnected bits and declared that he understood
perfectly. He loaned Sarah his extra clean handkerchief on which to
dry her eyes, her own handkerchief being obviously employed, for she
had laid the pathetic remains of the dead snake on his desk, and
when she was more quiet he told her kindly that there was no
question of expulsion.

"I don't know where you