. I had the jar at my lips, and had taken a long,
deep draught, when I happened to look up, and there was aunt Persis
going by the window, and looking straight down at me!

I was so startled by the bitter taste in my mouth and the sight of
aunt Persis, both coming at the same time, that I gave a little
scream, and pranced round and round the cellar like a wild animal.
Miss Rubie heard me, and came down to see what was the matter. She did
not ask if I had been meddling with the jars; but she must have known,
for a sticky stream was trickling over my dress, and I had set the
sirup down on the floor with the cover off. She bent a keen glance on
me, and at the same time I saw a little twinkle in her eye. I suppose
she thought my guilt would bring its own punishment, for she probably
knew the thoroughwort would make me sick.

"Are you ready now to be a good, quiet girl?" said she. I had been
shut down for noisiness.

"Yes'm," said I, meekly, and followed her up stairs.

But though my heart was heavy with shame, I could not help thinking,
"What orful tastin' perserves!" and wondering if aunt Persis really
was crazy, as Tempy Ann said she was.

Miss Rubie had had reason to think before that some of the children
went to those jars, but she did not say so; she merely remarked,--

"It is nearly noon, children; you may lay aside your books now, and,
if you like, I will tell you a story."

Everybody was pleased but me. I wanted to go home. The story was from
the text, "Thou, God, seest me." It was about Adaline Singleton, a
little girl who took her mother's cake without leave, and her mother
counted the slices, and found her out.

I could not look up at Miss Rubie all the while she was talking, but I
noticed Dunie Foster did. I was trying to rub that zigzag stream of
sirup off my apron; and O, how sick I grew! Would she ever stop?

I knew God had seen me yesterday and day before, when I ate peach
preserves, and I had no doubt it was to punish me that I had been
allowed to swallow this bitter stuff to-day. But, O, if I could go
home!

I never see that story of Adaline Singleton now among my books but it
calls up a remembrance of guilt and nausea too. I would give a great
deal, little Fly, if I hadn't so many bad things to remember. It is
because I hope to do you good that I am willing to tell of them. May
you have a purer childhood to look back upon!

Thankful was I when school was out that noon, but I wasn't able to go