"You have frightened Rosemary and you have disappointed me," he said sadly. "We both thought that head-strong and willful and reckless as you are, you would always take care of Shirley. How can we ever trust her to you again?"
"I didn't think she would get hurt," wept Sarah. "I do take care of her."
"My dear little sister—" Doctor Hugh took her in his arms and the stolid Sarah clung to him crying as though her heart would break. "My dear, dear little sister, it is because I want you to always think first, before you do something wrong, that I am talking to you like this. Shirley admires you—when you do the right thing, she will try to imitate you even more readily than when you do wrong. You are constantly setting her an example."
He let her cry a little while and then supplied her with his clean pocket handkerchief. With her flushed face pressed against his coat, Sarah listened while he explained gently the old, old lessons and laws that govern us all.
"Remember this, Sarah," he concluded earnestly, "you may think, when you do wrong, that you will take all the punishment yourself, but you can not; no one can bear the consequences of a misdeed wholly alone. Every time you do wrong you hurt someone else, two or three others, perhaps, and usually those who love you most."
Sarah was only nine years old, but she understood. Doctor Hugh had a faculty for making people understand him. He slipped his hand under Sarah's chin now and lifted the little brown face till the shamed dark eyes met his.
"Am I to trust you again, Sarah?" he asked gravely.
The little brown face grew vivid, resolution and love contending for possession of the dark eyes.
"I will be just as good!" promised Sarah. "Truly I will, Hugh."
And they sealed the compact with a kiss.