"Then, if they've come back, you know you did wrong?"
"Yes, I do know it now."
"And you know that little girls who do wrong have to be punished?"
"Ye-es; I s'pose I know that. How are you going to punish me?"
"We must discuss that. I think you deserve a rather severe punishment, for this was really, truly mischief. What do you think of staying home from Gladys' Hallowe'en party as a punishment?"
"Oh, Moth-er May-nard! You just can't mean that!"
"I'm not sure but I do. You must learn, somehow, Midget, that if you do these awful things, you must have awful punishments."
"Yes, but to stay home from Gladys' party! Why, those horrid, cruel people in the history book couldn't get up a worse punishment than that! Mother, say you don't mean it!"
"I won't decide just now; I'll think it over. Meantime, let's see what we can do toward cleaning you up."
The process was an uncomfortable one, and, after Marjorie's poor little face and hands had gone through a course of lemon juice, pumice stone, and other ineffectual obliterators, she felt as if she had had punishment enough.