footstep was heard on the stairs. Very soon
she returned with the blue-and-white water-pitcher and filled it
carefully at the kitchen sink.

"Now be careful and not spill it," said Sophia as she went out of the
room carrying it gingerly.

Amanda gave a timidly curious glance at her; she wondered if she had
seen the purple gown.

Then she started, for the village stagecoach was seen driving around to
the front of the house. The house stood on a corner.

"Here, Amanda, you look better than I do; you go and meet her," said
Sophia. "I'll just put the cake in the pan and get it in the oven and
I'll come. Show her right up to her room."

Amanda removed her apron hastily and obeyed. Sophia hurried with her
cake, pouring it into the baking-tins. She had just put it in the
oven, when the door opened and Flora entered carrying the blue
water-pitcher.

"What are you bringing down that pitcher again for?" asked Sophia.

"She wants some water, and Aunt Amanda sent me," replied Flora.

Her pretty pale face had a bewildered expression.

"For the land sake, she hasn't used all that great pitcherful of water
so quick?"

"There wasn't any water in it," replied Flora.

Her high, childish forehead was contracted slightly with a puzzled
frown as she looked at her aunt.

"Wasn't any water in it?"

"No, ma'am."

"Didn't I see you filling the pitcher with water not ten minutes ago, I
want to know?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What did you do with that water?"

"Nothing."

"Did you carry that pitcherful of water up to that room and set it on
the washstand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Didn't you spill it?"

"No, ma'am."

"Now, Flora Scott, I want the truth! Did you fill that pitcher with
water and carry it up there, and wasn't there any there when she came
to use it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let me see that pitcher." Sophia examined the pitcher. It was not
only perfectly dry from top to bottom, but even a little dusty. She
turned severely on the young girl. "That shows," said she, "you did
not fill the pitcher at all. You let the water run at the side because
you didn't want to carry it upstairs. I am ashamed of you. It's bad
enough to be so lazy, but when it comes to not telling the truth--"

The young girl's face broke up suddenly into piteous confusion, and her
blue eyes became filmy with tears.

"I did fill the pitcher, honest," she faltered, "I did, Aunt Sophia.
You ask Aunt Amanda."

"I'll ask nobody. This pitcher