The bell for the long recess then was rung, and the scholars dispersed to talk over poor Clara's sin, and to speculate on the punishment she would receive.
A group of young misses stood together on the lawn, eagerly listening to Miss Gleason's account of the stolen interview of the morning. When she had finished, one pupil said,—
"It's horrid to think that such a little girl should be so deceitful!"
"It's so mean to lie!" rejoined another. "I should be ashamed to show my face if I had told an untruth!"
"God showed his displeasure at the sin," remarked Amelia Davis, gravely. "I think I shall take the case of Ananias and Sapphira for my composition."
At this moment, Alice gracefully crossed the lawn and joined the group. On her head she wore a bewitching straw hat, trimmed with a long drab plume and tied with ribbon of the same hue. Her complexion was as delicate as an infant's, the color in her cheeks being somewhat heightened by her excitement.
"What a fuss Miss Salsbury makes about a few white lies that child has told!" she said, her lip curling contemptuously. "I doubt whether Clara is old enough to know that there is any harm in what she said,—such a little thing as she is!"
"But if the fault is not corrected while she is young," said the lady who last spoke, "it will grow upon her. I can conceive of no worse trait than to be a confirmed liar."
"Certainly. Of course lying is vulgar, to say nothing of its being immoral; but I don't believe the child meant to deceive, or would have done so, if she hadn't been frightened into it. She wanted the earrings, and, as the girl offered to sell them, I don't see how she can be much blamed."
The young ladies seemed rather surprised at this view of the case, coming as it did from one they admired; and presently the baneful influence began to work; for one of them said, playfully,—