, one for him and one for me."

"Go to bed," commanded Aunt Elizabeth, "We'll settle it to-morrow."

Chapter VI

THE FAIR.

The next morning saw Louis free, and he appeared at the breakfast
table wearing a very dogged expression of discontent. Edna trembled in
her shoes at what might be awaiting her, and when her aunt called her
solemnly to her room the child felt as if she were going before a
dreadful court of justice.

She never forgot that talk with Aunt Elizabeth, who, to do her credit,
tried to mete out what she considered as light a punishment as would
meet the case. It was not the punishment which Edna minded; it was the
long talk behind locked doors, which she bore standing in front of her
aunt, whose sharp eyes were fixed on the little culprit. "The value of
the apples is a very small matter," said Aunt Elizabeth, "and you
shall replace them by going without, as your own conscience told you
it would be right to do; but the principle of the thing is what I
mind, even though you took the fruit for some one else. You were not
only breaking the commandment, 'Thou shalt not steal,' but you were
not honoring those who stand in the place of your father and mother.
And it was not helping Louis; it was harming him, for your uncle and I
knew better than you what was best to be done. Now," concluded Aunt
Elizabeth, "because you were brave enough to come and confess your
fault, and because you are really contrite, I shall not punish you
beyond forbidding you all sweets for a week."

Edna accepted her punishment very meekly. She was very fond of sweets,
and it was hard to go without anything of that kind for seven whole
days. Ellen with all good intentions offered her a slice of bread and
butter spread with sugar in the kitchen one day; but the child was too
honest to accept it, and it is quite likely that this stanch upholding
of her aunt's decree had its effect not only upon Ellen but also upon
Louis.

"Say, Edna," said the boy, when he heard the result of the affair,
"I'm awfully sorry you got into a fuss on my account."

"O, I don't mind it much," replied his cousin; "I mind having Uncle
Justus think me bad."

Louis opened his eyes. "You don't care what that old tyrant thinks, do
you?"

"Why, yes," was the reply; "don't you? I don't like anybody to think I
am wicked."

"I don't care what some people think," replied Louis, angrily. "I wish
my father and mother were here, he'd soon see whether I'd b