"Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do."
"But I did not break it, mother; it broke by itself!" pleaded the child in a tone of the deepest distress.
"Hush! Clarice darling. Do not say what is untrue. My beloved child must be careful to keep to the exact truth, come what may. I am not angry with you for breaking the vase, because an accident may happen sometimes even to the most careful. Your fault lies in the disobedient act. Go away upstairs now by yourself, and think about it quietly. By and by you will tell me you are sorry. I shall not be able to take you out driving with me this afternoon, as I intended."
Clarice did not wait to hear any more, but ran off to the night nursery, to fling herself on her bed and have her cry out there.
"It is very unfair!" she sobbed, pushing back the hair from her flushed face. "Mamma won't believe me. Oh, dear! What shall I do? Why did I look at those roses?"
"You were disobedient," suggested Conscience, that faithful monitor, as Clarice began to feel the force of her mother's words. Yet she did not wish to give up the idea that she had been unjustly condemned. It was pride alone that prevented her going at once to her mother's room to confess her fault.
The dinner hour arrived, and Clarice took her place in silence with the other children. Still there was the same sulky tear-stained face, though her mother looked with such loving sadness at her naughty child.
Clarice watched her go upstairs to get ready for the afternoon drive, and longed, in spite of herself, to run and say just the little word that would put it all right again. But no, she lingered and hesitated until it was too late; and from the schoolroom window downstairs she watched the carriage drive away, with Milly seated beside mamma. With her eyes full of tears, Clarice sat down to prepare her lessons for the morrow.
While so doing she heard steps on the gravel path, and knew old Jonathan was at hand. He had heard about the accident from the servants, and felt very grieved that his dear little Miss Clarice should be in trouble. She was so seldom naughty that it was a great puzzle to him how such a thing could have happened. The child gave one look, to make quite sure it was her dear old friend, and then held out both hands towards him.
"I have been naughty, Jonathan," said the honest little offender; "but it was not quite my fault, though nobody believes me."