"Ella," she said sternly, "how is it that this book is in your keeping?"
"I don't know, Miss Merton," she said, flushing redly at her governess's tone. "I didn't put it there."
"Don't add a falsehood to your deception, please," was the sharp reply. "I am bitterly disappointed in you, Ella—this, then, accounts for your remarkably well done arithmetic."
Poor little Ella, her cup of humiliation was full to the brim. The accusation which was laid to her charge seemed to rob her of the power of speech, and she trembled so that she could scarcely stand.
Gertie, who little dreamed of all the trouble her act of deception would cause, was filled with shame and regret.
To Ella's surprise, and no little comfort, she stood by her in her hour of trouble.
"I am sure, Miss Merton," said she, "Ella wouldn't tell you a story about it. I know she didn't put it there."
"Then if she didn't, Gertie, pray, who did?" was the question.
Gertie turned red and white by turns. "Confess," said Conscience sternly, "now is your chance!"
Ah! Had Gertie done so, how much unhappiness and sorrow had been spared! But she let the moment pass, and so it was that Ella was left to bear the burden of unmerited shame and rebuke.