That was the awful truth-testing formula of the village children.

“Course you have,” said Matilda, with indignant backward glances at the others.  “Le’ss go and get that Baldwin apple.”

Comfort went with Matilda; but it took more than a Baldwin apple to solace her; and her first day at school was a most unhappy one.  It was very probable that the other scholars, and especially the elder ones, who had many important matters of their own in mind, thought little more about her and her gold ring after school had begun; but Comfort could not understand that.  She had a feeling that the minds of the whole school were fixed upon her, and she was standing upon a sort of spiritual platform of shame, which was much worse than the school-room floor.  If she saw one girl whisper to another, she directly thought it was about her.  If a girl looked at her, her color rose, and her heart began to beat loudly, for she thought she was saying to herself, “Likely story!”

Comfort was thankful when it was time to go home, and she could trudge off alone down the snowy road.  None of the others lived her way.  She left them all at the turn of the road just below the school-house.

“Good-night, Comfort,” Matilda Stebbins sang out loyally; but the big girl with red cheeks followed her with, “Wear that gold ring to school to-morrow, an’ let us see it.”  Then everybody giggled, and poor Comfort fled out of sight.  It seemed to her that she must wear that ring to school the next day.  She made up her mind that she would ask her mother; but when she got home she found that her Grandmother Atkins had come, and also her Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Susan.  They had driven over from Barre, where they lived, and her grandmother was going to stay and make a little visit; but her uncle and aunt were going home soon, and her mother was hurrying to make some hot biscuits for supper.

So when Comfort came in she stopped short at the sight of the company, and had to kiss them all and answer their questions with shy politeness.  Comfort was very fond of her grandmother, but this time she did not feel quite so delighted to see her as usual.  As soon as she had got a chance she slipped into the pantry after her mother.  “Mother,” she whispered, pulling her apron softly, “can’t I wear my gold ring to school to-morrow?”

“No, you can’t.  How many times have I got to tell you?” said her mother, mixing her biscuit dough energetically.

“Please let me, mother.  They didn’t believe I’ve got one.”

“Let them believe it or not, just as they have a mind to,” said her mother.

“They think I’m telling stories.”

“What have you been telling about your ring in school for, when you ought to have been studying?  Now, Comfort, I can’t have you standing there teasing me any longer.  I’ve got to get these biscuits into the oven; they must have some supper before they go home.  You go right out and set the table.  Get the clean table-cloth out of the drawer, and you may put on the best knives and forks.  Not another word.  You can’t wear that gold ring until your hand grows to it, and that settles it.”