At last, exhausted, Nature conquered all else, and, seated on one step, Marjorie folded her arms on the step above, laid her head down upon them, and went to sleep.
And it was thus that Uncle Steve found her when he came home at four o'clock.
"Hello, Queen of Mischief!" he cried, gayly. "Wake up here and tell me all about it!"
"Oh, Uncle Steve!" cried Marjorie, waking, flushed from her nap, and delighted at having some one to speak to; "do you know why I'm here? Did Grandma tell you?"
"Yes, she told me; and she told me something else, too. She says that if you are properly sorry for what you did,—really, AWFULLY sorry, you know,—that you may be excused for the rest of the day and may go out driving with me."
"Well, I just rather guess I AM sorry! I'm two sorries. One, because I disobeyed Grandma and tracked up her Front Stairs; and another, because I've had this terrible, dreadful punishment."
Uncle Steve looked at his niece a little gravely. "Which are you more sorry for, Marjorie," he asked: "because you did wrong or because you were punished?"
Marjorie considered. "About equal, I think. No, I'm more sorry I did wrong, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have had the punishment; and, besides, it hurt Grandma's feelings."
"Which did?"
"Why, my running up the stairs! Of course, the punishment didn't hurt her," and Marjorie laughed merrily at the idea.