Oh, oh, oh!
Sally was crying and choking, when suddenly she slipped out of bed.
Downstairs she started, tumbling over her long nightgown, slipping and catching the banisters at every step.
In astonishment Father looked up from his paper and Mother from her sewing to see Sally in the doorway, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘I tore Miss Neppy’s apron,’ sobbed Sally. ‘I tore it and I hid it in the dresser drawer. I played with her apron, and I tore it and I didn’t tell.’
And Sally fairly danced up and down, she felt so miserable and unhappy about it all.
But after a moment or two, with Sally safe on Father’s lap, and Mother kneeling on the floor, holding both hands in hers, Sally was able to stop crying and to tell all that had happened that afternoon.
When she had quite finished, Father said, ‘Suppose we go straight over to Miss Neppy’s and tell her now.’
Sally nodded. It was just what she wanted to do.
So Mother ran for Sally’s slippers and long blue coat, and Father carried her over the way to where Miss Neppy sat alone by her front window, rocking and knitting and humming a little song.