grass was short and where the sun shone, she ran out boldly upon it, and
then, looking down at her shoes, she observed that they were not wet. She
held up one of her feet to her aunt as she came opposite to the place,
saying,

"See, aunt, the grass is not wet at all."

"I see it is not," said her aunt. "I _thought_ it would not be wet; though
I was not sure but that it might be. But come," she added, holding out her
hand, "I have concluded not to go to the village, after all. We are going
back home."

"Oh, Aunt Jane!" said Mary, following her aunt as she began retracing her
steps along the path. "What is that for?"

"I have altered my mind," said her aunt.

"What makes you alter your mind?"

By this time Aunt Jane had taken hold of Mary's hand, and they were walking
together along the path towards home.

"Because you don't obey me," she said.

"Why, auntie," said Mary, "the grass was not wet at all where I went."

"No," said her aunt, "it was perfectly dry."

"And it did not do any harm at all for me to walk upon it," said Mary.

"Not a bit of harm," said her aunt.

"Then why are you going home?" asked Mary.

"Because you don't obey me," replied her aunt.

"You see," said her aunt, "there is one thing about this that you don't
understand, because you are such a little girl. You will understand it
by-and-by, when you grow older; and I don't blame you for not knowing it
now, because you are so young."

"What is it that I don't know?" asked Mary.

"I am afraid you would not understand it very well if I were to explain
it," replied her aunt.

"Try me," said Mary.

"Well, you see," replied her aunt, "I don't feel safe with any child that
does not obey me. This time no harm was done, because the grass happened to
be dry; but farther on there was a brook. I might have told you not to go
near the brink of the brook for fear of your falling in. Then you might
have gone, notwithstanding, if you thought there was no danger, just as you
went out upon the grass because you thought it was not wet, notwithstanding
my saying that you must keep in the path. So you see I never feel safe in
taking walks in places where there is any danger with children that I can
not always depend upon to do exactly what I say."

Mary was, of course, now ready to make profuse promises that she would
obey her aunt in future on all occasions and began to beg that she would
continue her walk to the village.

"No," said her aunt, "I