ape so
easily. Still she was not quite sure that some punishment might not be
in store for her on the morrow. And she had an uncomfortable impression
that were it not for her father's absence it might not be a very light
one.
When she was snugly in bed, Grandma Elsie came to her, bringing with her
own hands a great tumbler of hot lemonade.
"Drink this, Lulu," she said, in her own sweet voice and with a loving
look that made the little girl heartily ashamed of having given so much
trouble and anxiety; "it will be very good for you, I think, as well as
palatable."
"Thank you, ma'am," Lulu said, tasting it; "it is delicious, so strong
of both lemon and sugar."
"I am glad you like it; drink it all if you can," Elsie said.
When Lulu had drained the tumbler it was carried away by Agnes, and
Grandma Elsie, sitting down beside the bed, asked, "Are you sleepy, my
child? If you are we will defer our talk till to-morrow morning; if not,
we will have it now."
"I'm not sleepy," Lulu answered, blushing and averting her face, adding
to herself, "I suppose it's got to come, and I'd rather have it over."
"You know, my child, that in the absence of your father and mine you are
my care and I am responsible for you, while you are accountable to me
for your good or bad behavior. Such being the case, it is now my duty to
ask you to give an account of your whereabouts and doings in the hours
that you were absent from us this evening."
Lulu replied by an exact statement of the truth, pleading in excuse for
her escapade her father's permission to stroll about the beach, even
alone, her enjoyment of the exercise of walking along the bluff, and her
absorbing interest in the changing beauty of sky and sea--all which
tended to render her oblivious of time and space, so that on being
suddenly reminded of them she found herself much farther from home than
she had supposed.
"Was it not merely within certain limits you were given permission to
ramble about the beach?" Elsie asked gently.
"Yes, ma'am; papa said I was not to go far, and I did not intend to;
indeed, indeed, Grandma Elsie, I had not the least intention of
disobeying, but forgot everything in the pleasure of the walk and the
beautiful sights."
"Do you think that is sufficient excuse, and ought to be accepted as
fully exonerating you from blame in regard to this matter?"
"I don't think people can help forgetting sometimes," Lulu replied, a
trifle sullenly.
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