School had begun. The boys and girls were in their places, and the
master was hearing them spell; when all at once there was a soft, low
knock at the door.

"Come in!" said the master; and a little cleanly-dressed girl, about six
years old, stood upon the threshold, with downcast eyes.

She held out before her, as if trying to hide behind it, a satchel, so
large that it seemed hard to decide whether the child had brought it, or
it had brought the child; and the drops on her cheeks showed how she had
been running.

"Why, Katie!" cried the schoolmaster, "why do you come so late? Come
here to me, little culprit. It is the first time you have been late.
What does it mean?"

Little Katie slowly approached him, while her chubby face grew scarlet.
"I--I had to pick berries," she faltered, biting her berry-stained lips.

"O Katie!" said the master, raising his forefinger, "that is very
strange. You _had_ to? Who, then, told you to?"

Katie still looked down; and her face grew redder still.

"Look me in the face, my child," said the master gravely. "Are you
telling the truth?"

Katie tried to raise her brown roguish eyes to his face: but, ah! the