All the time Mammy was leading little Agnes through the wide hall, and
up the broad stairs and--along the upper hall to the door of the "North
Room," the good old woman was wiping her eyes with her apron, and trying
to choke down something in her throat which prevented her speaking the
words of comfort she wished to say to the sobbing child. When they
reached the door of the room in which little Agnes was to be a prisoner,
Mammy sat down, and taking the child in her lap she took off her own
warm shawl and pinned it carefully around her, and as she stooped to
kiss her, Agnes saw the tears upon her cheek.

"Why do you cry, Mammy?" she asked, "mamma has not scolded you to-day,
has she?"

"No, love."

"Are you crying then because you are so sorry for me?"

"That's it, my darling, I cannot bear to lock you up here alone for the
day and leave you so sorrowful, you that ought to be as blithe as the
birds in spring."

"Mammy, do you think I deserve this punishment?"

"No, sweet, if I must say the truth, I do not think you ever deserve any
punishment at all. But I must not say anything that's wrong to you,
about what your mamma chooses to do."

"Then, Mammy, don't you think I ought to be happier than if I had really
been naughty and was punished for it. Don't you remember Mammy the verse
you taught me from the Bible the last time Lewie was so fretful and