"Yes, I thought—I thought Miss Pinkett would not wear it. I wanted to have it for one night. I—I thought she would not find it out. I heard her say she was not going to wear it. Where shall I throw it away?"
"You must not throw it away," said Meg. "Some one else would be suspected. Come, Elsie, you must be brave. You must say that you took it. Come with me, I'll say it for you."
She put her arm about the child. But Elsie struggled like a little mad animal from her grasp.
"No, no; don't say it was I—don't say it was I!"
An infinite compassion seized Meg when she saw the big tears welling in Elsie's eyes, and she asked herself how she could save this little one. Pity grew into the stronger motive and smothered fear. It was Meg's nature that what she undertook to do she did thoroughly.
"I will ask to be punished in your stead, Elsie," she said.
"They won't punish you for me—they won't let you be punished for me!"
Meg drew her breath.
"They don't think it is I—they don't think it is I!" sobbed Elsie, clinging to Meg. "Don't say it is I!"