me. I want to see you alone."

Peace glanced apprehensively at the pale face, which looked unusually
stern and severe, and said, "That is a sure-enough receipt, but if you
don't b'lieve it, you can ask Mr. Hardman about it."

"I am not doubting your story in the least," answered the big sister,
smiling in spite of herself, "but I want to talk to you, dear."

When Gail said "dear," she was never angry, so, without further
hesitation, Peace followed her to the small room under the eaves,
wondering what was coming next. Gail seated herself in the rickety chair
by the window, and drawing the small girl down into her lap, she asked,
"Now what is all this trouble about? Tell sister everything."

So Peace related the story of the raspberries and her anger at their
neighbor, which had led to the painting of the barn.

"What did you write on the building?" questioned Gail when Peace paused
at this point in her recital.

"Just the truth. I said, 'Mr. Hardman isn't square.' Then, so's he would
know what he wasn't square about, I made a lot of raspberries under the
printing."

"Peace! After Mr. Hartman has been so kind to us! What do you think of a
little girl who will do a thing like that!"

"At first I thought she was all right," answered the candid maiden. "But
now I've changed my mind, and I guess she was pretty bad when she did
it. Though he needn't have said what he did to me. He told me we could
have the berries."

"At the same time he warned you about Mr. Skinner's bull."

"Yes, and I warned Mr. Skinflint--I mean Mr. Skinner."

"Mr. Skinner is a hot-tempered man, and I am afraid if the Hartmans owe
him money, as you say, he will make it very uncomfortable for them."

"Maybe I better go see old Skinflint--I mean Mr. Skinner--and tell
him--"

"No, indeed!" cried Gail in alarm. "You have done damage enough already.
Promise me that you won't say anything to him about it, Peace."

"I promise. I ain't anxious to see him anyway, only I thought if it
would do any good I would go and tell him how it happened. I am awfully
sorry now."

"Then don't you think you better apologize to Mr. Hartman?"

"Wasn't the licking a napology enough?"

"The whipping only settled your account. It didn't say you were sorry.
And it was wrong to tell him that you hoped he would get his reward in
heaven."

"Why?" cried Peace in genuine astonishment. "That's what the lame
peddler woman always tells you when you buy a paper of needles