Pauline was in such a strait that she made up her mind to tell a lie. She had never, so far as she could remember, told an actual and premeditated lie before. Now matters were so difficult, and there seemed such a certainty of there being no other way out, that she resolved to brave the consequences and add to her former sin by a desperate, downright black lie. Accordingly, just before dinner she ran into Verena’s room.  
“Renny,” she said, “I have made up my mind.”
 
“What about?” asked Verena. “Why, Pauline, you do look bad. Your face is as white as a sheet.”
 
“I shall have to explain,” continued Pauline. “I am going to tell how I got the burn on my arm.”
 
Verena gave a great sigh of relief.
 
“I am glad,” she cried. “It is far better to tell.”
 
“So I think,” said Pauline in an airy fashion. “Give me a kiss, Verena; I must dress for dinner, and I haven’t a moment to lose.”
 
“You will wear your pretty blouse?”
 
“Certainly.”
 
Pauline dashed out of the room, banging the door noisily after her.94
 
“I wonder what she means,” thought Verena. “She is certainly getting rather queer. I am afraid she has a terrible secret on her mind. I am glad she means to confess, poor darling! I seem to have less influence over her than I used to have, and yet I love no one like Paulie. She is all the world to me. I love her far better than the others.”
 
Meanwhile Pauline, with great difficulty, put on her pretty evening-blouse. How she hated those elbow-sleeves! How she wished the little soft chiffon frills were longer! At another time she would have been delighted with her own reflection in the glass, for a cream-colored silk blouse suited her. She would have liked to see how well she looked in this new and fashionable little garment. She would have been pleased, too, with the size and brilliancy of her black eyes. She would have admired that flush which so seldom visited her sallow cheeks; she would even have gazed with approbation¹ at her pearly-white teeth. Oh, yes, she would have liked herself. Now she felt that she hated herself. She turned from the glass with a heavy sigh.
 
Having finished her toilet, she wrapped a soft muslin handkerchief round her wounded arm and ran downstairs. Her aunt was already in the drawing-room, but to Pauline’s relief no one else was present. The little girl ran up to her aunt, dropped a curtsy, and looked somewhat impertinently into her face.
 
“Here I am,” she said; “and how do I look?”
 
“You have put on your blouse, Pauline. It suits you. Turn round and let me see how it fits at the back. Oh! quite nicely. I told Miss Judson to make the blouses in a simple fashion, so that they could be washed again and again. But what is the matter, my dear? Your face is very white. And—why, my dear Pauline, what is wrong with your arm?”
 
“I have something to confess, Aunt Sophy. I hope you won’t be terribly angry.”
 
“Something to confess, my dear child? Well, I am glad you have the courage to confess when you do wrong. There is nothing like owning up one’s faults, Pauline. There is nothing else that really strengthens the soul. Well, I am listening, dear. Now, what is it?”
 
Pauline slowly unfastened the handkerchief which she had bound round her arm, and showed the great burn to Miss Tredgold.
 
Miss Tredgold started, uttered an exclamation², took the little arm in her hand, and looked tenderly at the ugly place.
 
“My poor little girl,” she said. “Do you mean that you have been suffering from this all this time? But how in the world did it happen?”95
 
“That is what I want to confess. I did something extremely naughty the day you kept me in Punishment Land.”
 
“What was it?”
 
“You sent me to bed at seven o’clock.”
 
“Yes; that was part of the punishment.”
 
“Well, I didn’t like it. Oh! here comes Verena. Renny, I am confessing my sins.”
 
Verena ran up, her face full of anxiety. She put her arm round Pauline’s waist.
 
“See how bad her poor arm is,” she said, glancing at Miss Tredgold.
 
“Yes,” said Miss Tredgold, “it is badly hurt; but don’t interrupt, Verena. I am listening to the story of how Pauline burnt her arm.”
 
“You sent me to bed at seven o’clock,” said Pauline, who, now that she had embarked³ on her narrative⁴, felt emboldened⁵ and, strange to say, almost enjoyed herself. “I could not possibly sleep at seven o’clock, you know; so, to amuse myself, I tried on my new white dress; and then I lit a candle, drew down the blinds, and looked at myself in the glass. I was so pleased! I did look nice; I felt quite conceited⁶.”
 
“You needn’t tell me how you felt, Pauline. I want to hear facts, not accounts of your feelings. You did wrong to put on your white dress, for it had already been fitted on by the dressmaker, and it was being carefully kept for Sunday wear. But proceed. After you lit the candle and drew down the blinds what happened?”
 
“A great puff⁷ of wind came in through the window, and it blew the blind against the candle, and the flame of the candle came towards me, and I had my hand up to arrange my hair. I was fastening it up with hairpins⁸ to make myself look quite grown-up.”
 
“Well?”
 
“And the candle caught my sleeve and set it on fire.”
 
Miss Tredgold now began to look so pale that Verena vaguely⁹ wondered if she were going to faint. The little culprit, however, stood bolt upright and gazed with defiant¹⁰ black eyes at her aunt.
 
“Yes,” said Pauline, “I suffered awful pain, and the sleeve blazed up like anything; but I ran to the basin of water and put it out. I was afraid to tell you. I had to tell Renny that I had burnt my arm, but I didn’t tell her how it happened, and I wouldn’t allow her to breathe to you that I was in pain. That was the reason I could not wear my pretty blouse last night, and you were angry with me. I hope you won’t be angry any more; but the sleeve of the dress is burnt badly. Perhaps you won’t give me any birthday present because the sleeve of my new dress is so much injured.”96
 
“I will see about that. The thing is to cure your arm. The doctor must come immediately.”
 
“But it is getting better.”
 
“You must see the doctor,” said Miss Tredgold.
 
She went out of the room as she spoke¹¹. Pauline sank into a chair; Verena looked down at her.
 
“Have you told the truth?” asked Verena suddenly.
 
Pauline nodded with such a savage¹² quickness that it made her sister positively¹³ certain that she had not heard the right story.
 
Miss Tredgold came back in a minute.
 
“I have sent for Dr. Moffat,” she said. “I hope he will be here after dinner. My dear child, why didn’t you tell me before?”
 
“Are you going to forgive me?” faltered¹⁴ Pauline. “I—I almost think I’d rather you didn’t.”
 
“You are a very queer child, and I may as well tell you frankly¹⁵ you are talking nonsense. You did wrong, of course, to put on the white dress; but I think, my dear, your sufferings have been your punishment. We will say no more now about the burnt sleeve. Fortunately I have plenty of the same muslin in the house, and the mischief¹⁶ can be quickly repaired. Now, dear, lie back in that chair. No; you are not to come in to dinner. It shall be sent to you here on a tray.”
 
For the rest of the evening Pauline was so pitied and fussed over, and made so thoroughly¹⁷ comfortable, that she began to think the black, black lie she had uttered quite a good thing.
 
“Here am I half out of my scrape,” she thought. “Now, if I can only persuade Nancy not to force us to go to that midnight picnic, and not to tell if we don’t go, and if I can get the thimble back, I shall be once more as happy as the day is long. This wicked black lie shall not frighten me. There is no other way out. I cannot possibly tell the truth. What would Nancy think if I did?”
 
The doctor came. He ordered a healing lotion¹⁸ for the arm; he also felt the pulse of the little patient. He declared her to be slightly feverish¹⁹, and ordered her to bed.
 
Half the next day Pauline stayed in her comfortable bed. She was fed with dainties by Aunt Sophia, was not expected to learn any lessons, and was given a fascinating story-book to wile²⁰ away the time. During the morning, when she was not engaged in the schoolroom, Miss Tredgold stayed by the little girl’s side, and mended the burnt dress, cutting out a new sleeve and putting it in with deft²¹, clever fingers.
 
Pauline watched her as one fascinated. As she looked and observed the graceful²² figure, the kindly²³ expression of the eyes, and the noble pose of the head, there stole over her desolate²⁴ little heart a warm glow. She began to love 97Aunt Sophia. When she began to love her she began also to hate herself.
 
“I don’t want to love her a bit,” thought the child. “I want quite to detest²⁵ her. If I love her badly—and perhaps I may—it will make things that must happen much more difficult.”
 
Aunt Sophia left the room. She came back presently with a dainty jelly and some home-made biscuits. She put an extra pillow at Pauline’s back, and placed the little tray containing the ............