"see how pretty it is." "It must not
be mine, Father," said Alice, very quietly, for she was determined
to command herself. "I have not kept my promise, Father. I have
deceived you and mother. I don't deserve the box. Give it to my
cousin." Then she told her father the whole story, just as it was.
As she went on, she grew braver, and felt happier; so that she was
able to look up into her father's face, and say, very calmly, "I
could not take any pleasure in your pretty box, for I know I do not
deserve it. Please, dear Father, to tell Mother all about it, and
put away the box, if you choose not to give it to some one else. It
is very pretty, but it is not to be my box."

The tears began to come in her eyes, and she turned to go out of the
room. Her father stopped her. "Come here, my Child," he said. "You
did wrong, but you have done all you could to repair your fault. You
will never again, I think, be guilty of falsehood. At the end of
another month, if you feel sure of yourself, come to me for your
box."

"No, Father, that would seem like being paid for speaking the truth.
I should never ask for the box."

"Would you rather I should give it to your cousin?"

"If you please, I should;" and then the tears ran fast down her
cheeks. "You know my cousin Edith has very few pretty things. I
should like her to have it."

"Take it, Alice, and give it to her yourself."

"As your present, Father, not as mine. You know it is not, and
cannot be mine. I have been so unhappy at my untruth, that I think I
shall never commit such a fault again."

Alice never did again, in the slightest thing, depart from the
strictest truth and uprightness, in action as well as in word. It
was common for her friends to say when there was a question about
any thing that had occurred, "We will ask Alice. She always tells
the exact truth."

At last, Alice was a woman; and I, of course, led a more sober life,
as she became more serious. I grew so long and thick that, when she
took out her comb, and shook her head slightly, I fell in curls all
around her neck and shoulders, like a golden veil, and you could but
just see her laughing blue eyes, and white teeth through me.

You may readily guess that the pretty Alice was beloved by all who
knew her; and, ere long, the son of the village apothecary won her
heart. He was a good-hearted fellow, but never fitted himself to be
of much use in the world. He took Alice to a distant village, where,
with h