ly and
safely to the post-office with the small white treasure intrusted to
her care; but those paper dolls were _so_ pretty, and of course there
was no harm in walking along with Addie, and looking at them. How
could she know that the hateful letter was going to tumble out of her
apron pocket? Right there, too, the only place along the road where
there was the least bit of mud to be seen! Then she had honestly
supposed that a little clean water from the creek, applied with her
smooth white handkerchief, would take the stains right out of the
envelope, and the sun would dry it, and it would go safely to Uncle
Ralph's after all; but, instead of that, the hateful, _hateful_ thing
slipped right out of her hand, and went floating down the stream; and
at this point Julia's sobs burst forth afresh. Presently she took up
her broken thread of thought, and went on: How very, _very_ ugly Ester
was; if _she_ hadn't been there, her mother would have listened kindly
to her story of how very sorry she was, and how she meant to do just
right. Then she would have forgiven her, and she would have been
freshly dressed in her clean blue dress instead of her pink one, and
would have had her happy day after all; and now she would have to
spend this bright day all alone; and, at this point, her tears rolled
down in torrents.

"Jule," called a familiar voice, under her window, "where are you?
Come down and mend my sail for me, won't you?"

Julia went to the window and poured into Alfred's sympathetic ears the
story of her grief and her wrongs.

"Just exactly like her," was his comment on Ester's share in the
tragedy. "She grows crosser every day. I guess, if I were you, I'd let
her wait a spell before I asked her forgiveness."

"I guess I shall," sputtered Julia. "She was meaner than any thing,
and I'd tell her so this minute, if I saw her; that's all the sorry I
am."

So the talk went on; and when Alfred was called to get Ester a pail
of water, and left Julia in solitude, she found her heart very much
strengthened in its purpose to tire everybody out in waiting for her
apology.

The long, warm, busy day moved on; and the overworked and wearied
mother found time to toil up two flights of stairs in search of her
young daughter, in the hope of soothing and helping her; but Julia was
in no mood to be helped. She hated to stay up there alone; she wanted
to go down in the garden with Alfred; she wanted to go to the arbor
and read her new