Mrs. Minot remembered having seen the stamp lying close to the
sofa when she left the room, for she had had half a mind to take
it to Jack, but did not, thinking Frank’s plan had some advantages.
She also recollected that a paper flew off the table, but being in
haste she had not stopped to see what it was. Now, the stamp and
the letter could hardly have come together without hands, for they
lay a yard apart, and here, also, on the unwritten portion of the
page, was the mark of a small green thumb. Jill had been winding
wool for a stripe in her new afghan, and the green ball lay on her
sofa. These signs suggested and confirmed what Mrs. Minot did
not want to believe; so did the voice, attitude, and air of Jill, all
very unlike her usual open, alert ways.
The kind lady could easily forgive the reading of her letter since
the girl had found such sad news there, but the dangers of
disobedience were serious in her case, and a glance showed that
she was suffering either in mind or body–perhaps both.
“I will wait for her to tell me. She is an honest child, and the truth
will soon come out,” thought Mrs. Minot, as she took a clean
sheet, and Jill tried to study.
“Shall I hear your lesson, dear? Jack means to recite his like a
good boy, so suppose you follow his example,” she said, presently.
“I don’t know as I can say it, but I’ll try.”
Jill did try, and got on bravely till she came to the word
“permanent”; there she hesitated, remembering where she saw it
last.
“Do you know what that means?” asked her teacher, thinking to
help her on by defining the word.
“Always–for a great while–or something like that; doesn’t it?”
faltered Jill, with a tight feeling in her throat, and the color coming
up, as she tried to speak easily, yet felt so shame-stricken she could
not.
“Are you in pain, my child? Never mind the lesson; tell me, and I’ll
do something for you.”
The kind words, the soft hand on her hot cheek, and the pity in the
eyes that looked at her, were too much for Jill. A sob came first,
and then the truth, told with hidden face and tears that washed the
blush away, and set free the honest little soul that could not hide
its fault from such a friend.
“I knew it all before, and was sure you would tell me, else you
would not be the child I love and like to help so well.”
Then, while she soothed Jill’s trouble, Mrs. Minot told her story
and showed the letter, wishing to lessen, if possible, some part of
the pain it had given.
“Sly old stamp! To go and tell on me when I meant to own up, anti
get some credit if I could, after being so mean and bad,” said Jill,
smiling through her tears when she saw the tell-tale witnesses
against her.
“You had better stick it in your book to remind you of the bad
consequences of disobedience, then perhaps this lesson will leave
a permanent impression on your mind and memory, answered Mrs.
Minot, glad to see her natural gayety coming back, and hoping that
she had forgotten the contents of the unfortunate letter. But she
had not; and presently, when the sad affair had been talked over
and forgiven, Jill asked, slowly, as she tried to put on a brave look,
“Please tell me about Lucinda Snow. If I am to be like her, I might
as well know how she managed to bear it so long.”
“I’m sorry you ever heard of her, and yet perhaps it may help you to
bear your trial, dear, which I hope will never be as heavy a one as
hers, This Lucinda I knew for years, and though at first I thought
her fate the saddest that could be, I came at last to see how happy
she was in spite of her affliction, how good and useful and
beloved.”
“Why, how could she be? What did she do?” cried Jill, forgetting