lden hair clustering all over
her head in a most unspinster-like fashion, and her eyes were big and
blue, and mild as a dove's. Her face was perhaps a weak one, but it was
very sweet and appealing.

Judith Marsh was tall and dark, with a plain, tragic face and iron-gray
hair. Her eyes were black and sombre, and every feature bespoke
unyielding will and determination. Just now she looked, as Salome had
said, "angry clear through," and the baleful glances she cast on the
small mortal she held would have withered a more hardened criminal than
six happy-go-lucky years had made of Lionel Hezekiah.

Lionel Hezekiah, whatever his shortcomings, did not look bad. Indeed,
he was as engaging an urchin as ever beamed out on a jolly good world
through a pair of big, velvet-brown eyes. He was chubby and firm-limbed,
with a mop of beautiful golden curls, which were the despair of his
heart and the pride and joy of Salome's; and his round face was usually
a lurking-place for dimples and smiles and sunshine.

But just now Lionel Hezekiah was under a blight; he had been caught
red-handed in guilt, and was feeling much ashamed of himself. He hung
his head and squirmed his toes under the mournful reproach in Salome's
eyes. When Salome looked at him like that, Lionel Hezekiah always felt
that he was paying more for his fun than it was worth.

"What do you suppose I caught him doing this time?" demanded Judith.

"I--I don't know," faltered Salome.

"Firing--at--a--mark--on--the--henhouse--door--with--new-laid--eggs,"
said Judith with measured distinctness. "He has broken every egg that
was laid to-day except three. And as for the state of that henhouse
door--"

Judith paused, with an indignant gesture meant to convey that the state
of the henhouse door must be left to Salome's imagination, since the
English language was not capable of depicting it.

"O Lionel Hezekiah, why will you do such things?" said Salome miserably.

"I--didn't know it was wrong," said Lionel Hezekiah, bursting into
prompt tears. "I--I thought it would be bully fun. Seems's if everything
what's fun 's wrong."

Salome's heart was not proof against tears, as Lionel Hezekiah very well
knew. She put her arm about the sobbing culprit, and drew him to her
side.

"He didn't know it was wrong," she said defiantly to Judith.

"He's got to be taught, then," was Judith's retort. "No, you needn't
try to beg him off, Salome. He shall go right to bed without supper, and