"That is spoken well, my child; and now I must tell you that I think you have been somewhat hardly dealt by in this matter. Looking it over coolly, I can see that I did not make enough allowance for indecision and embarrassment on your part, after you received the book."
"Indeed and truly, maman, I meant to show you the book, but I quite forgot it till we came here. Then when Betty carried it off, I did not know what to do."
"There was but one thing to do, and that was to come and tell me all about it," said my mother. "That would have saved all the trouble."
"So Rosamond said. Oh, maman, she was so good last night."
"She is a dear maid," said my mother; "by far the best of the three."
"Better than Margaret?" said I, surprised, for I had looked upon Meg as a pattern of all excellence.
"Yes, because she is truly humble-minded—a rare and most precious quality. She is truly poor in spirit, while Meg, with all her good qualities—but we will not discuss the faults of others. Now, do you know what is to be done next?"
"I must go to my aunt and tell her that I am sorry," said I, "but, maman, what shall I say? I cannot say that I am sorry for lending Betty the book, for I did not lend it to her—she took it."
"Tell her just how it was, and say you are sorry for bringing the book here. I will go with you, if it will make matters easier."
We found my aunt in the still-room—luckily alone—fussing over some peppermint she was distilling.