n, and when refreshments were
served, she did not think of looking for him. As it happened, they were
far apart.

Earl was very warm. His mother had told him to be careful about playing
too hard, but when interested in a game, the boy did not realize how
fast and far he ran. When the tempting ice cream, with berries, cake and
lemonade were passed, he allowed himself to be helped with the rest,
thinking only how hot he was and how good the cold things would taste.
He had eaten half his cream and half emptied his glass before he really
thought of his promise. Then he stopped suddenly, feeling sorry and
distressed.

[Illustration: The ice cream and lemonade prove too big a temptation.]

"But what could I do?" he reasoned. "It would not be polite to ask for
just berries alone."

This was Earl's second mistake. The first was forgetting his promise,
the second in thinking true obedience could ever be impolite.

"I might as well finish now, for if it's going to hurt me it has
already, and the rest won't do any more harm."

Mistake number three. Why should any wrongdoing be finished? Suppose a
driver should say about a horse, "He has a pretty big load now and so I
might as well pile on as much more as I can," would it be no worse for
the horse? Earl was entirely wrong.

Of course he suffered for it. The doctor had to be sent for in the
night, and the next day, though better, he was ill and weak, and had to
stay in bed--something no boy was ever known to enjoy.

He had hoped that the simple remedies mamma gave him as soon as he
confessed what he had done, and began to feel ill, would undo the
mischief, but they did not. Earl had to bear the full consequences of
his broken promise.

"Dear Earl, I am so sorry you are sick," cried Lilian, when she came in
to see him the next morning.

Kneeling by the bed she put one arm under his aching head and threw the
other over his shoulder, while Earl put one arm lovingly about his
sister.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, "but really, Lilian, I'm sorrier that I did
wrong. Mamma is so sorry she trusted me, and she says maybe she ought
not to have let me go into temptation. She said that when we both
promised she felt sure, and so let us go. Isn't it mean not to keep a
promise when you're trusted?"

"I was mean not to help you keep yours, when I promised to," Lilian
said, not wishing to scold Earl when he was ill in bed. "Mamma says,"
she went on, "that when I went security for you i