“Goodness, child, your feet are like snow. Here, put them on the gin-jar.”
Aunt Elizabeth pushed the gin-jar over against Emily’s feet. How lovely and warm and comforting it was!
Emily worked her toes against it like a cat. But she suddenly knew she could not wait for morning.
“Aunt Elizabeth, I’ve got something to confess.”
Aunt Elizabeth was tired and sleepy and did not want confessions just then. In no very gracious tone she said,
“What have you been doing?”
“I—I cut a bang, Aunt Elizabeth.”
“A bang?”
Aunt Elizabeth sat up in bed.
“But I cut it off again,” cried Emily hurriedly. “Right off—close to my head.”
Aunt Elizabeth got out of bed, lit a candle, and looked Emily over.
“Well you have made a sight of yourself,” she said grimly. “I never saw any one as ugly as you are this minute. And you have behaved in a most underhanded fashion.”
This was one of the times Emily felt compelled to agree with Aunt Elizabeth.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lifting pleading eyes.
“You will eat your supper in the pantry for a week,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “And you will not go to Uncle Oliver’s next week when I go. I had promised to take you. But I shall take no one who looks as you do anywhere with me.”
This was hard. Emily had looked forward to that visit to Uncle Oliver’s. But on the whole she was relieved. The worst was over and her feet were getting warm. But there was one thing yet. She might as well unburden her heart completely while she was at it.
“There’s another thing I feel I ought to tell you.”
