room, put on your worsted bedroom slippers, and then you may bring
back with you any books or toys you care for."

"How many?" asked Marjorie, whose spirits were rising, for her
punishment seemed to promise a novel experience.

"As many as you can carry at once," replied Grandma, turning aside
to hide a smile.

In a few minutes Marjorie returned. She had turned up the short,
full skirt of her pink gingham frock to form a sort of bag, and
into it she had tumbled, helter-skelter, several books, some paper
and pens, her paper-doll's house, her paintbox, her kitten, a few
odd toys, her Memory Book, and her clock. Staggering under the
bulging load, but in a more cheerful frame of mind, she reached
the stairs again.

"I brought my clock," she observed, "because I shall want to know
as the hours so by; but I'll be careful not to scratch the stairs
with it, Grandma."

"Your carefulness comes too late, Marjorie. I shall have to send
for a man from town to repolish the stairs, anyway, for the nails
in the heels of your heavy boots have entirely ruined them."

"Oh, Grandma, I am so sorry; and if you think a day won't be
punishment enough, I'll stay for a week. Do I get anything to
eat?" she added, as a sudden thought of their picnic luncheon
occurred to her. "You might just send me the picnic basket."