With lightened spirits, then, and with sparkling eyes, Marjorie completed her confession.  “Yes,” she went on, “after you said last night that you b’lieved us children could turn your hair white in a single night, I thought I’d make believe we did.  So,—­and you know, Grandma, you told me I could stay around in your room for a while, and look at your pretty things,—­so, when I saw that queer sort of a powder-shaker I couldn’t help playing with it.  And then when I saw your bed all fixed so nice for the night, I thought it would be fun to powder your pillow.  I’ve heard of people doing it before.  I didn’t make it up myself.  So I shook the powder all over your pillow, and then of course you put your head on it, and of course it made your hair white.”

Marjorie’s parents looked aghast, for to them it seemed as if she had simply played a practical joke on her grandmother, and one not easily forgiven, but Grandpa Maynard expressed himself in a series of chuckles.

“Chip of the old block,” he said.  “Chip of the old block!  Just what you would have done, Ed, when you were a boy, if you had thought of it!  Marjorie, practical jokes run in the family, and you can’t help your propensity for them!  I don’t approve of them, mind you, I don’t approve of them, but once in a while when one works out so perfectly, I can’t help enjoying it.  What do you say, Mother?”

He turned to his wife, and to the surprise of all, she was beaming with joy.  It was not so much her enjoyment of the joke as her relief at finding that her hair had not turned gray, and could easily be restored to its beautiful brown.

“I’m quite sure I ought to be annoyed,” she said, smiling at Marjorie.  “I’m almost certain I ought to be very angry, and I know you ought to be punished.  But none of these things are going to happen.  I’m so glad that it is only a joke that I forgive the little jokemaker, and as I promised, I will give you a present as an expression of my gratitude.”

And so the breakfast ended amid general hilarity, and afterward Grandma took Marjorie up to her own room, and they had a little quiet talk.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand me, dear,” she said, “for practical jokes are not liked by most people, and they’re not a nice amusement for a little girl.  But, I’m afraid, Marjorie, that I have been too harsh and stern with you, and so I think we can even things up this way.  I will pass over the rudeness and impertinence of your deed, if you will promise me not to make a practice of such jokes throughout your life.  Or at least, we will say, on older people.  I suppose a good-natured joke on your schoolfellows now and then does no real harm; but I want you to promise me never again to play such a trick on your elders.”

“I do promise, Grandma; and I want to tell you that your kindness to me makes me feel more ashamed of my naughty trick than if you had punished me.  You see, Grandma, I do these things without thinking,—­I mean without thinking hard enough.  When the notion flies into my head it seems so funny that I just have to go on and do it!  But I am trying to improve, and I don’t cut up as many jinks as I used to.”