“Poor Amy could not account for my occasional coolness, for I was too proud to let her know the reason.  I had been a truthful child, Bessie, but envy tempted me, and I yielded.  I sometimes tried to prejudice the other girls against Amy, and this was the beginning of my deceit.  She was too timid to defend herself, and so I usually carried my point.

“One day our teacher gave out to us the word, believe.  In her usual low voice, Amy spelt ’b-e-l-i-e-v-e, believe.’ Her teacher misunderstanding her said, quickly, ‘Wrong—­the next;’ but turning to her again, asked, ’Did you not spell it l-e-i-v-e?’

“‘No ma’am, I said l-i-e-v-e,’

“Miss R——­, still in doubt, looking at me, inquired, ’You heard, Ruth; how was it?’

“A wicked thought occurred to me,—­to disgrace her, and raise myself.  Deliberately I uttered a gross falsehood, ‘Amy said l-e-i-v-e,’

“The teacher turned toward Amy, who stood, silent, distressed and confounded by my accusation.  Her flushed face and streaming eyes gave her the appearance of guilt.

“‘Amy,’ said her teacher sternly, ’I did not expect a lie from you.  Go, now, to the foot of the class, and remember to remain after school.’

“I had triumphed, Bessie; Amy was disgraced, and I stood proudly at the head of my class, but I was not happy.

“When school was dismissed, I pretended to have lost something, and lingered in the hall.  I heard the teacher say,—­

“‘Amy, come here,’ and then I caught the light footsteps of the gentle child.

“‘How could you tell that lie?’

“‘Miss R—–­ I did not tell a lie,’ but even as she denied it, I could see through the keyhole that in her grief at the charge, and her dread of punishment, she stood trembling like a culprit.

“‘Hold out your hand.’

“There I stood, as if spellbound.  Stroke after stroke of the hard ferule I heard fall upon the small white hand of the innocent child.  You may well hide your eyes from me, Bessie.  Oh, why did I not speak?  Every stroke went to my heart, but I would not confess my sin, and so I stole softly from the door.

[Illustration:  "Miss R—–­ I did not tell a lie."]

“As I lingered on the way, Amy walked slowly along, with her books in one hand, while with the other she kept wiping away the tears, which would not yet cease to flow.  Her sobs, seeming to come from a breaking heart, sank deep into my own.

“As she walked on, weeping, her foot stumbled, and she fell, and her books were scattered on the ground.  I picked them up and handed them to her.  Turning toward me her soft blue eyes swimming in tears, in the sweetest tones, she said,—­

“‘I thank you, Ruth.’

“It made my guilty heart beat faster, but I would not speak; so we went on silently together.

“When I reached home, I said to myself, ’what is the use, nobody knows it, and why should I be so miserable?’ I resolved to throw off the hated burden, and, going into the pleasant parlor, I talked and laughed as if nothing were the matter.  But the load on my poor heart only grew the heavier.