Grace shook her head. “No, Lu, but,” sobbing, “I—I’ve been thinking ’bout that time I was so naughty, meddling with mamma’s things, and—and oh, you know the rest.”
“Yes, but why does it trouble you now? it was all over such a long time ago.”
“Yes, but papa doesn’t know about it, and—oughtn’t I to tell him?”
“I don’t know,” Lulu said reflectively; “but you needn’t be afraid; he wouldn’t punish you after this long while, especially as Mamma Vi knew all about it at the time, and punished you herself.”
“Such a little bit of a punishment for such a wicked thing,” Grace said; “papa would have punished me a great deal harder, I’m most sure.”
“But he won’t now; so you needn’t be afraid to tell him.”
“But he’d look so sorry, and I can’t bear to see my dear papa look sorry for something I did.”
“Then don’t tell him. It isn’t as if it had happened just the other day.”
“But, Lulu, I oughtn’t to let him think I’m a better girl than I am.”
“Maybe he doesn’t. You are a good girl; a great deal better than I am.”