"Well daughter ?" "I--I just want to ask you something." "Another time then, pet, papa's in a hurry now." But seeing the distress in the dear little face he came to her and laying his hand on her head in tender fatherly fashion, said, "Tell papa what it is that troubles you.

I will wait to hear it now." "Papa," she said, choking down a sob, "I--I don't know what to do." "About what, daughter ?" "Papa, s'pose--s'pose I'd done something naughty, and--and it would grieve dear mamma to hear it; ought I to tell her and--and make her sorry ?" "My dear little daughter," he said bending down to look with grave, tender eyes into the troubled face, "never, _never_ conceal anything from your mother; it is not safe for you, pet; and she would far rather bear the pain of knowing.

If our children knew how much, how very much we both love them, they would never want to hide anything from us." "Papa, I don't; but--somebody says it would be selfish to hurt mamma so." "The selfishness was in doing the naughty thing, not in confessing it.
Go, my child, and tell mamma all about it." He hastened away, and Violet crept back to the drawing-room.
The other children were leaving it.

"Come, Vi," they said, "we're going for a walk." "Thank you, I don't wish to go this time," she answered with gravity.
"I've something to attend to." "What a grown up way of talking you have, you little midget," laughed Meta.

Then putting her lips close to Vi's ear, "Violet Travilla," she whispered, "don't you tell tales, or I'll never, never play with you again as long as I live." "My mamma says it's wicked to say that;" returned Vi, "and I don't tell tales." Then as Meta ran away, Violet drew near her mother's chair.
Mamma was talking, and she must not interrupt, so she waited, longing to have the confession over, yet feeling her courage almost fail with the delay.
Elsie saw it all, and at length seized an opportunity while the rest were conversing among themselves, to take Vi's hand and draw her to her side.
"I think my little girl has something to say to mother," she whispered softly, smoothing back the clustering curls, and looking tenderly into the tear-stained face.
Violet nodded assent; her heart was so full she could not have spoken a word without bursting into tears and sobs.
Mamma understood, rose and led her from the room; led her to her own dressing-room where they could be quite secure from intrusion.