Mrs. Forbes espied the child in the distance, and was at the door when she came in.

“After this, Julia, you must never go away without telling me where”—­she began, when her eyes recognized the condition of the gingham frock, and the child’s feet.  “Look at how you’ve drabbled your dress!” she ejaculated.

“It’s clean water,” returned Julia.

“But your feet!  Why, Julia Evringham, they are as wet as sop!  Where have you been?”

“Playing by the brook in the ravine.”

Mrs. Forbes groaned.  “Nothing will satisfy a child but finding the place where they can get the dirtiest and make the most trouble.  Why didn’t you wear your rubbers, you naughty girl?”

“Why—­why—­it wasn’t raining.”

“Raining!  Those rubbers are to keep your feet dry.  Haven’t you got any sense?”

Jewel looked a little pale.  “I didn’t know I should get wet in the brook,” she answered.

“Well, go right upstairs now, up the backstairs, and take off every one of those wet things.  Let me feel your petticoat.  Yes, that’s wet, too.  You undress and get into a hot bath, and then you put on your nightgown and go right to bed.”

“Go to bed!” echoed the child, bewildered.

“Yes, to bed.  You won’t come down to dinner.  Perhaps that will teach you to wear your rubbers next time and be more careful.”

Jewel found the backstairs and ascended them, her little heart hot within her.

“She’s the impolitest woman in the whole world, Anna Belle!” she whispered.  “I’m going to not cry.  Mother didn’t know what impoliteness there was at grandpa’s or she wouldn’t have let us come.”

The child’s eyes were bright as she found her room and began undressing.  “But you mustn’t be angry, dearie,” she continued excitedly to her doll.  “It’s the worst error to be angry, because it means hating.  You treat me, Anna Belle, and I’ll treat you,” she went on, unfastening her clothes with unsteady hands.

With many a pause to work at a refractory elastic or button, and many interruptions from catches in her breath, she murmured aloud during the process of her undressing:  “Dear Father in Heaven, I seem to feel sorry all over, and full of error.  Help me to know that I’m not a mortal mind little girl, hating and angry, but I am Thy child, and the only things I know are good, happy things.  Error has no power and Love has all power.  I love Mrs. Forbes, and she loves me.  Thou art here even in this house, and please help me to know that one of Thy children cannot hurt another.”  Here Jewel slipped into the new wrapper her mother had made, and hurried into the white tiled bathroom near by.  While she let the water run into the tub she put her hand into her pocket mechanically, in search of a handkerchief, and when she felt the crisp touch of paper she drew it out eagerly.  It was covered, and she read the words written in her mother’s distinct hand.