"You are all wrong," cried Pansy, "and I shall not tell you my secret to-day."
The next morning, as she was coming down stairs, she paused, and said to herself, "Shall I tell them my secret now? No, Pansy, let them see that you can keep a secret."
No sooner was she seated at the table in her high-chair, than papa said, "Well, Pansy, how much longer are you going to keep us in the dark? Are you going to tell us your secret?"
"Not yet, papa," said Pansy, looking up with a roguish smile.
"What can it be?" said mother, laying down her knife and fork, and putting her hand to her head.
"I don't believe it is any thing of any account," cried brother John. "She wants to keep us curious."
"Well, I think Pansy must be learning a new piece to recite," said her mother.
"That's not it," said Pansy. "It's a 'portant secret: one that my mother will like to hear."
"Oh, it's important, is it?" said papa. "I do wonder what it can be."
"Mother, what day was it that you lost your wedding-ring?" said John.