She took up the story-book—still unfinished—which had got her into this trouble, but could not feel the interest she had before; an uneasy conscience prevented.
Laying it aside, she sat for some moments with her elbow on the window-sill, her cheek in her hand, her eyes gazing upon vacancy. She was thinking of what Max had said about the duty of confession to her father.
"I wish I didn't have to," she sighed to herself; "I wish papa hadn't said I must write out every day what I've been doing and send the diary to him. I think it's hard; it's bad enough to have to confess my wrong-doing to him when he's at home. It's just as well he isn't, though, for I know he'd punish me if he was. Maybe he will when he comes again, but it's likely to be such a long while first that I think I'm pretty safe as far as that is concerned. Oh, it does provoke me so that he will make me obey these people! I'm determined I'll do exactly as I please when I'm grown up!
"But if I'm sent off to boarding-school I'll have to obey the teachers there, or have a fight and be expelled—which would be a great disgrace and 'most break papa's heart, I do believe—and they would very likely be more disagreeable than even Grandpa Dinsmore; not half so nice and kind as Grandma Elsie, I'm perfectly certain. Oh dear, if I only were grown up! But I'm not, and I have to write the story of to-day to papa. I'll make it short."
Opening her writing-desk, she took therefrom pen, ink, and paper, and, after a moment's cogitation, began.
"I haven't been a good girl to-day," she wrote; "I was so interested in a story-book that I neglected to learn my Latin lesson; so I failed in the recitation, and Grandpa Dinsmore was very cross and disagreeable about it. He says I answered him disrespectfully and as punishment I sha'n't go into the schoolroom or recite to him again for a week.
"There," glancing over what she had written, "I hope papa will never question me closely about it; and I think he won't; it'll be such an old story by the time we meet again."
The week of her banishment from the schoolroom was an uncomfortable one to Lulu, though she was given no reason to consider herself a martyr. She was allowed a share in all the home pleasures, all her wants were as carefully attended to as usual, she received no harsh words or unkind looks; yet somehow could never rid herself of the consciousness that she was in disgrace. Very little notice was taken of her by any of the family except her brother and sister; she came and went about the house as she pleased,—never venturing into the schoolroom, however,—but when she joined the family circle no one seemed to be aware of her presence; they talked among themselves, but did not address or even look at her.
This treatment was galling to her, and she began to spend almost all of her time in "the boy's work-room," at her favorite employment of fret-sawing.
Max was generally at work there also out of school-hours, but during those hours she had always been alone till one morning Mrs. Leland, happening to want something from a closet in the work-room, came unexpectedly upon her.