aunt, dropped a curtsy, and looked somewhat
impertinently into her face.

"Here I am," she said; "and how do I look?"

"You have put on your blouse, Pauline. It suits you. Turn round and let
me see how it fits at the back. Oh! quite nicely. I told Miss Judson to
make the blouses in a simple fashion, so that they could be washed again
and again. But what is the matter, my dear? Your face is very white.
And--why, my dear Pauline, what is wrong with your arm?"

"I have something to confess, Aunt Sophy. I hope you won't be terribly
angry."

"Something to confess, my dear child? Well, I am glad you have the
courage to confess when you do wrong. There is nothing like owning up
one's faults, Pauline. There is nothing else that really strengthens the
soul. Well, I am listening, dear. Now, what is it?"

Pauline slowly unfastened the handkerchief which she had bound round her
arm, and showed the great burn to Miss Tredgold.

Miss Tredgold started, uttered an exclamation, took the little arm in her
hand, and looked tenderly at the ugly place.

"My poor little girl," she said. "Do you mean that you have been
suffering from this all this time? But how in the world did it happen?"

"That is what I want to confess. I did something extremely naughty the
day you kept me in Punishment Land."

"What was it?"

"You sent me to bed at seven o'clock."

"Yes; that was part of the punishment."

"Well, I didn't like it. Oh! here comes Verena. Renny, I am confessing my
sins."

Verena ran up, her face full of anxiety. She put her arm round Pauline's
waist.

"See how bad her poor arm is," she said, glancing at Miss Tredgold.

"Yes," said Miss Tredgold, "it is badly hurt; but don't interrupt,
Verena. I am listening to the story of how Pauline burnt her arm."

"You sent me to bed at seven o'clock," said Pauline, who, now that she
had embarked on her narrative, felt emboldened and, strange to say,
almost enjoyed herself. "I could not possibly sleep at seven o'clock, you
know; so, to amuse myself, I tried on my new white dress; and then I lit
a candle, drew down the blinds, and looked at myself in the glass. I was
so pleased! I did look nice; I felt quite conceited."

"You needn't tell me how you felt, Pauline. I want to hear facts, not
accounts of your feelings. You did wrong to put on your white dress, for
it had already been fitted on by the dressmaker, and it was being
carefully kept for Sunday wear. But proceed. After you lit