Beth kept her blushing, telltale face turned from her mother, and did
not answer. Without another word, Mrs. Davenport went to the trunk,
and began smoothing things out.

"I declare, there's something alive in here," and she drew out a poor,
half smothered kitten.

"I think you might let her go in the trunk," cried Beth, aggrieved.

"Child, it would kill the poor kitty. Marian, you take it back to the
chambermaid." Marian left the room with it, and Beth began to pout,
whereupon Mrs. Davenport said:

"Beth, you are so set upon having your own way, I hardly know what to
do with you."

Immediately Beth's pouting gave place to a mischievous smile. "You'd
better call in a policeman, and have me taken away."

Mrs. Davenport smiled too. "So my little girl remembers the policeman,
does she? I was at my wits' end to know how to manage you when I
thought of him. Even as a little bit of a thing, you would laugh
instead of cry, if I punished you with a whipping."

"Well, I was afraid of the policeman, anyway. I thought you really
meant it when you said I was a naughty child, and not your nice Beth,
and that the policeman would take the naughty child away."

"It worked like magic," said Mrs. Davenport. "You stopped crying
almost immediately, and held out towards me a red dress of which you
were very proud, and cried, 'I'm your Beth. Don't you know my pretty
red dress? Don't you see my curls?'" She sat down, having finished
straightening out the trunk, and Beth crept up into her mother's lap.

"Beth, do you remember one night when you were ready for bed in your
little canton-flannel night-drawers, that you lost your temper over
some trifling matter? You danced up and down, yelling, 'I won't. I
won't.' I could hardly keep from laughing. My young spitfire looked
very funny capering around and around, her long curls rumpled about her
determined, flushed face, and her feet not still an instant in her
flapping night-drawers. Many and many a time you escaped punishment,
Beth, because you were so very comical even in your naughtiness."

"I remember that night well," answered Beth. "You said, 'There, that
bad girl has come back. Even though it's night, she'll have to go.'"

"And," interrupted Mrs. Davenport, "you threw yourself into my arms,
crying, 'Mamma, whip me, but don't send me away.' I knew better than
to whip you, but I punished you by not kissing you good-night."

"And I cried myself to sleep," put