“My dear,” she said then, very gently, “I did not remark on your dress last night; but for the future remember that when I say a thing is to be done, it is to be done. I had a pretty, suitable blouse put into your room for you to appear in last night. Why did you wear that ugly torn shirt?”
“I couldn’t help myself,” said Pauline.
“That is no reason.”
Pauline was silent. She looked on the ground. Miss Tredgold also was silent for a minute; then she said decisively:
“You will wear the new blouse to-night. Remember, I expect to be obeyed. I will say nothing more now about your forgetting my orders last evening. Do better in the future and all will be well.”
It was with great difficulty that Pauline could keep the tears from her eyes. What was to become of her. She did not dare expose her burnt arm; she could not possibly wear a blouse with sleeves that reached only to the elbow without showing the great burn she had received. If Miss Tredgold found out, might she not also find out more? What was she to do?
“What am I to do, Verena?” she said on the afternoon of that same day.
“What do you mean, Paulie? Your arm is better, is it not?”
“Yes; it doesn’t hurt quite so much. But how can I wear the new blouse to-night?”
“Would it not be wiser,” said Verena, “if you were to tell Aunt Sophy that you have burnt your arm? It is silly to make a mystery of it.”