, saddled her horse, and was slipping away from the back yard when
her mother's voice halted her.

"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Margarita.

"I'm--I'm--going--going to see Sukey Yates," answered the girl.

She had not intended going to Sukey's, but after her mother's peremptory
demand for information, she formed the _ex post facto_ resolution to do
so, that her answer might not be a lie.

"Now, what on earth do you want there?" asked the Chief Justice.

"I--I only want to sit awhile with her," answered Rita. "May I go? The
work is all done."

"No, you shan't go," responded the kind old lady. You see, one of the
maxims of this class of good persons is to avoid as many small
pleasures as possible--in others. That they apply the rule to
themselves, doesn't help to make it endurable.

Rita--with whom to hear was to obey--sprang from her horse; but just
then her father came upon the scene. His soft words and soothing
suggestions mollified Justice, and Rita started forth upon her visit to
Sukey. She had told her mother she was going to see Sukey Yates; and
when she thought upon the situation, she became convinced that her _ex
post facto_ resolution, even though honestly acted upon, would not avail
her in avoiding a lie, unless it were carried out to the letter and in
the spirit. There was not a lie in this honest girl--not a fractional
part of a lie--from her toes to her head. She went straight to see
Sukey, and did not go to town, though she might easily have done so. She
did not fear discovery. She feared the act of secret disobedience, and
above all she dreaded the lie. A strong motive might induce her to
disobey, but the disobedience in that case would be open. She would go
to Sukey's to-day. To-morrow she would go to town in open rebellion, if
need be. The thought of rebellion caused her to tremble; but let the
powers at home also tremble. Like many of us, she was brave for
to-morrow's battle, since to-morrow never comes.

Rita was not in the humor to listen to Sukey's good-natured prattle, so
her visit was brief, and she soon rode home, her heart full of trouble
and rebellion. But the reward for virtue, which frequently fails to make
its appearance, waited upon our heroine. When she was about to dismount
at the home gate, her father called to her:--

"While you're on your horse, Rita, you might ride to town and ask Billy
Little if there's a letter. The mail came in three days ago."

The monster, Rebellion