She began to feel like crying, but was determined not to do anything so foolish.

Slowly and wearily the morning dragged away, and at last, when Marjorie had begun to feel that lassitude which comes from utter weariness, Jane appeared with a tray of luncheon.

Marjorie brightened up at once.  “Oh, Jane,” she cried, “I’m so glad to see you!  I am so lonesome!”

“Pore lamb!” said Jane, sympathetically; “I’m thinkin’ ye’re purty nigh dead, be now.  But here’s the foine lunch for ye.  See, darlint, here’s chicken and strawberries and jelly and all the things ye like best!  Cheer up, now, and ate yer food.”

“Indeed, I will!  Oh, Jane, what lovely things!  Fresh little cakes, with pink icing; and gooseberry jam!  But don’t go away, Jane.”

“I must, Miss Midget.  Yer grandma towld me not to shtay wid yez.”

“But I’m so lonesome,” said Marjorie, who had just seemed to realize what the main trouble was.

But Jane dared not disobey orders, and setting the tray on the stairs, she went away, with fond backward glances at the forlorn little figure sitting there.

However, the lonesomest human heart is bound to cheer up a little under the influence of a specially fine feast, and as Marjorie ate her luncheon and drank a big glass of milk, the detested stairs began to assume a rather more attractive air.

And so, when Jane came to take the tray away she found on it only empty dishes, while Marjorie, who was cuddled up in a corner, reading, looked at her with a smile.

“The day is half gone!” she announced, triumphantly.  “And, Jane, won’t you ask Grandma if you may bring me a glass of water so I can paint.  But tell her I don’t want it unless she’s perfectly willing.”

Grandma smiled a little at the stipulation, but sent Marjorie the glass of water, and the child filled up half an hour or more painting pictures.  But the cramped position was very uncomfortable, and Marjorie grew restless and longed for exercise.  Suddenly an inspiration seized her, and she concluded it would be great fun to slide down the banister.  For a few times this was amusing, but it stung her hands, and finally she fell off and bumped her head rather soundly.

“It’s lucky I fell on the stair side,” she said to herself, rubbing the lump on her forehead, “for I promised Grandma not to leave the stairs, and if I had fallen off on the other side I should have broken my promise!”

The afternoon hours seemed to move rather more slowly than the morning.  Occasionally, Marjorie’s naturally cheerful disposition would assert itself and she would bravely endeavor to occupy herself pleasantly in some way.  But there was so little light, and stairs are uncomfortable at best to sit on, and the silence and loneliness were so oppressive, that her efforts successively failed.

And, though Marjorie did not realize it, her spirits were depressed because of the mere fact that she was undergoing punishment.  Had she been there of her own free choice she could have played happily on the stairs all day long; or had the opportunity been bestowed upon her, as a great and special treat, the hours would have flown by.