It was Grandma’s wish that the members of the family should usually use the carpeted stairs, for she too took great pride in the glossy, shining surface of the others.  Uncle Steve preferred the carpeted stairs, anyway, as they led to the upper hall which opened into his own room, and Grandma invariably used them.

As a means of distinction, the wooden stairs were habitually called the Front Stairs; and, though they were equally front, the carpeted flight was always spoken of as the Other Stairs.

From the first, Marjorie had been explicitly forbidden to go up and down the Front Stairs; and from the first Marjorie had found this rule most difficult to remember.

Rushing from her play into the house, often with muddy or dusty shoes, she would fly into the hall, clatter up the Front Stairs, and, perhaps, down again and out, without a thought of her wrongdoing.  This would leave footprints, and often scratches and heel-marks on the beautiful steps, which meant extra work for Jane; and even then the scratches were not always effaceable.

Many a serious talk had Grandma and Marjorie had on the subject; many times had Marjorie faithfully promised to obey this particular command; and, alas! many times had the child thoughtlessly broken her promise.

At last, Grandma said:  “I know, my dear, you do not mean to forget, but you do forget.  Now this forgetting must stop.  If you run up those Front Stairs again, Marjorie, I’m going to punish you.”

“Do, Grandma,” said Marjorie, cheerfully; “perhaps that will make me stop it.  For honest and true I just resolve I won’t do it, and then before I know it I’m just like Jack and the Beanstalk, ’a-hitchet, a-hatchet, a-up I go!’ and, though I don’t mean to, there I am!”

Grandma felt like smiling at Marjorie’s naive confession, but she said very seriously:  “That’s the trouble, dearie, you do forget and you must be made to remember.  I hope it won’t be necessary, but if it is, you’ll have to be punished.”

“What will the punishment be, Grandma?” asked Marjorie, with great interest.  She was hanging around Mrs. Sherwood’s neck and patting her face as she talked.  There was great affection between these two, and though Marjorie was surprised at the new firmness her grandmother was showing, she felt no resentment, but considerable curiosity.

“Never mind; perhaps you’ll never deserve punishment and then you will never know what it would have been.  Indeed, I’m not sure myself, but if you don’t keep off those Front Stairs we’ll both of us find out in short order.”

Grandma was smiling, but Marjorie knew from her determined tone that she was very much in earnest.

For several days after that Marjorie kept carefully away from the Front Stairs, except when she was wearing her dainty house slippers.  It was an understood exception that, when dressed for dinner or on company occasions and her feet shod with light, thin-soled shoes, Marjorie might walk properly up or down the Front Stairs.  The restriction only applied to her heavy-soled play shoes or muddied boots.