Lucia's first feeling after her thankfulness, had been one of vexation that May could have been so naughty, but ere it reached her lips she was stopped by the remembrance that "all we like sheep have gone astray," and the thought softened her heart towards her little sister, and enabled her to go over to her side and take her hand in hers.
May gave one glance of surprise, and then nestled against her very softly.
"We must talk about it, dear, when we get back," said Lucia; "just now I am so thankful that you are safe, and we are all so tired—"
"I know," murmured May humbly. "I never meant to be naughty."
But when they had got home, and had eaten their tea, and had been put to bed by nurse and Lucia together, May ventured to draw her sister close, and whisper—
"I wanted you to talk to me. You said mother would have been very grieved if she knew I had been so naughty."
"So I did, May; but mother would forgive you I know, if you are sorry."
Lucia sat down on the edge of the bed, and May climbed up into her arms, resting on her shoulder ever so lovingly.
"You see, May," said Lucia gently, "I am afraid that your being so fond of doing something different from the others led you to be disobedient. You knew you were none of you to go away from the rest."
"It wasn't that exactly," whispered May humbly.