who had committed a fault, and then tried to lay the blame on a
girl. "Bab was lying back in her chair fast asleep, and with bright
smiles on her face, that showed that she was having happy dreams, when
in you ran, jumped over desk, book, and all; threw a little of the ink
across the page by a kick with your foot, then looking with dismay at
your work, tucked the book under your arm, and jumped through the window
with it."

Robert blubbered at this. "I wanted to take the ink out."

"You have been a very bad boy," said his father. "You deserve a
flogging, and shall have it. I am very much grieved about your book,
Beresford."

Robert almost screamed.

"I think more of his laying the fault on this little girl," replied Mr.
Beresford, his hand among Bab's curls, "than of the book."

Bab sidled up to him. He sat at the table looking so kindly at her, and
she stood by him, her elbow on it, and with her pretty modest eyes fixed
on him. "But it doesn't seem quite as if he did that, does it?" she
asked; "he took the book away to make it well. If he had left it with
me, _everybody_ would have believed I did it, and he knew that quite
well."

"No, he had not laid a plot, but at the moment he put the blame on you."

"That was because he is such a coward. Pray, he couldn't help it; he was
too frightened. You were too frightened, weren't you, Robert? You _are_
such a coward!" Bab said plainly.

Robert, still crying, she made his excuses.

"And I am very sorry. I'd quite forgotten; but I did it too."

Mr. Beresford smiled.

"Did what, little Bab?"

"Ah, perhaps you'll be angry, and I shall be so _very_ sorry; but I must
tell. I did it too."

She sidled up a little nearer, and looked gently at him.

"Did what too?"

"I spurted a little--leetle ink by a spluttering pen, and it was a bad
fairy called Blackame; and another fairy was just telling me how to set
it right, when Robert must have rushed in and did it all; but if I
hadn't put the book _on_ the desk _near_ the ink, nothing would have
happened, and Robert would be happy. Oh, please, Uncle Jem, don't flog
Robert."

"Very well; you are a good little thing, Bab. Go to bed this moment,
sir; perhaps I may let you off, as your cousin is so kind."

Robert left the room, and his father followed to at least give him a
good scolding. Bab was left alone with Mr. Beresford. She stood near
him, with a wistful expression about both her face and her figure.

"Will it spo