An incident occurred in school about this time, which directed the attention of the preceptress to this vice.
A little girl named Clara Dalton, the youngest scholar, had been detected several times in equivocation, and once in a deliberate falsehood. The circumstances were these.
Wednesday and Saturday afternoons were half-holidays; and under certain restrictions, the pupils were allowed to employ themselves as they chose. It was a rule, however, that they should not exceed a certain limit in their walks without special permission. Somehow or other, Clara had formed the acquaintance of a girl living quite at the other extreme of the village; and as Miss Salsbury for some reason disapproved the intimacy, she had forbidden Clara to visit her.
Wednesday morning came again, inviting all lovers of green fields and pure air to walk forth. Miss Gleason, one of the older pupils, having arisen earlier than common, was sauntering through the garden with a volume of poems in her hand, when she heard a low murmur of voices close to the hedge separating the garden from the road.
"I will!" exclaimed a low, earnest voice. "I'll tell you how I can manage it. I'll get one of the girls to ask Miss Salsbury if we may go to the post office. We'll start early, and while the girl has gone in, I'll run across the fields to your house, as fast as I can go."
"So you can!" answered another voice. "I'll be there somewhere to meet you. Be sure to bring the money, and I'll have the earrings all ready."
"Good-by, then; you'd better go now, or somebody will see you."
"What an old tiger Miss Salsbury must be, to keep you caged up so!" said the street girl, spitefully. "Come as early as you can."
The young lady stood still, greatly troubled. Should she—ought she to report to the preceptress? She had recognized the voice as Clara's; and soon after, the child crept cautiously from her hiding place, and ran stealthily toward the house. After some hesitation, she decided that she was not called upon to mention what she had seen.
In the evening, there was some unusual excitement in the hall, and presently a child's voice was heard crying bitterly. It was Clara, who had just reached home, her clothes soiled and torn, and her eyes swollen with crying.