n it was in her
pocket she seemed troubled, and pretty soon stopped playing, and sat
down in a corner looking very sober. She thought a few minutes, and then
went and put back the roll very softly, and her face cleared up, and
she was a happy child again. The young lady was glad to see that, and
wondered what made the little girl put it back."

"Tonscience p'icked her," murmured a contrite voice from behind the
small hands pressed tightly over Pokey's red face.

"And why did she take it, do you suppose?" asked Rose, in a
school-marmish tone, feeling that all the listeners were interested in
her tale and its unexpected application.

"It was so nice and wound, and she wanted it deffly," answered the
little voice.

"Well, I'm glad she had such a good conscience. The moral is that people
who steal don't enjoy what they take, and are not happy till they put
it back. What makes that little girl hide her face?" asked Rose, as she
concluded.

"Me's so 'shamed of Pokey," sobbed the small culprit, quite overcome by
remorse and confusion at this awful disclosure.

"Come, Rose, it's too bad to tell her little tricks before everyone,
and preach at her in that way; you wouldn't like it yourself," began Dr.
Alec, taking the weeper on his knee and administering consolation in the
shape of kisses and nuts.

Before Rose could express her regret, Jamie, who had been reddening
and ruffling like a little turkey-cock for several minutes, burst out
indignantly, bent on avenging the wound given to his beloved dolly.

"I know something bad that you did, and I'm going to tell right out. You
thought we didn't see you, but we did, and you said uncle wouldn't like
it, and the boys would tease, and you made Ariadne promise not to tell,
and she punched holes in your ears to put ear-rings in. So now! and
that's much badder than to take an old piece of rag; and I hate you for
making my Pokey cry."

Jamie's somewhat incoherent explosion produced such an effect that
Pokey's small sin was instantly forgotten, and Rose felt that her hour
had come.

"What! what! what!" cried the boys in a chorus, dropping their shovels
and knives to gather round Rose, for a guilty clutching at her ears
betrayed her, and with a feeble cry of "Ariadne made me!" she hid her
head among the pillows like an absurd little ostrich.

"Now she'll go prancing round with bird cages and baskets and carts and
pigs, for all I know, in her ears, as the other girls do, and won