"How was that? It was a very good little stocking when it was put on this morning."
"'Cause a big, larger hole came in my shoe, and it went foo and foo."
"But it was a very good shoe too, quite new," answered Mrs. Bradford. "How did a hole come in it already?"
"A stone came on it, Aunt Margaret; but—Aunt Margaret—I'm 'fraid it came on it 'cause I was naughty. I disobeyed you fee times, Aunt Margaret;" and Belle's voice had a piteous tone in it, as if she were about to burst into a cry again.
"And does my little Belle want to tell me all about it?" asked Mrs. Bradford, throwing down her work, and holding out her arms to the child.
Belle let hat and shoe slip to the ground, and in another moment had scrambled into Mrs. Bradford's lap. Ah, what a comfort it was to feel about her those kind arms, whose dear, loving clasp reminded her of those of her lost mamma! and to nestle her head against Aunt Margaret's shoulder, while she confessed with many a penitent sob how naughty she had been.
"I s'pose you'll have to punish me pretty much: won't you, Aunt Margaret?" said Belle, when her story was finished.
"My poor little girl, I'm afraid you have punished yourself more than I should," said Mrs. Bradford.
"Oh no, Aunt Margaret! I did not punish myself one bit. I did not go in the closet for a single moment," said Belle.
While Belle had been talking, Mrs. Bradford had taken off the bandage, and was looking at the little grazed foot. She still held it tenderly in her hand when the child said these last words.