Then Comfort burst out with a great sob of confession. "I--took--it," she gasped. "I took my gold ring that Aunt Comfort gave me for her name--and--I wore it to school, and Miss Tabitha pinned it in my pocket, and I lost it. And Matilda she gave me the gold dollar her Uncle Jared gave her to buy me another, and we walked a mile and a half apiece to Bolton, to buy it in Gerrish's, and I couldn't; and I was afraid something had happened to mother; and I'm sorry." Then Comfort sobbed until her very sobs seemed failing her. Her father wiped his eyes. "Don't let that child cry that way, Em'ly," said he to Mrs. Pease. Then he turned to Comfort. "Don't you feel so bad, Comfort," he coaxed. "Father'll get you some peppermints when he goes down to the store to-night." Comfort's father gave her a hard pat on her head; then he went out of the room with something that sounded like an echo of Comfort's own sobs. "Comfort," said Mrs. Pease, "look here, child. Stop crying, and listen to what I've got to say. I want you to come into the parlor with me a minute." Comfort followed her mother weakly into the best parlor. There on the table stood the rosewood work-box, and her mother went straight across to it and opened it. "Look here, Comfort," said she; and Comfort looked. There in its own little compartment lay the ring. "Miss Tabitha Hanks found it in the road, and she thought you had taken it unbeknownst to me, and so she brought it here," explained her mother. "I didn't let you know because I wanted to see if you would be a good girl enough to tell me of your own accord, and I'm glad you have, Comfort." Then Comfort's mother carried her almost bodily back to the warm kitchen and sat her before the fire to toast her feet, while she made some cream-toast for her supper. Her grandmother had a peppermint in her pocket, and she slid it into Comfort's hand. "Grandma knew she would tell, and she won't never do such a thing again, will she?" said she. "No, ma'am," replied Comfort. And the peppermint in her mouth seemed to be the very flavor of peace and forgiveness. After Comfort was in bed and asleep that night her elders talked the matter over. "I knew she would tell finally," said Mrs. Pease; "but it's been a hard lesson for her, poor child, and she's all worn out--that long tramp to Bolton, too" "I 'most wish her Aunt Comfort hadn't been so dreadful careful about getting her a ring big enough," said Grandmother Atkins. Mr. Pease looked at his wife and cleared his throat. "What do you think of my getting her a ring that would fit her finger, Em'ly?" he asked, timidly. "Now, father, that's all a man knows!" cried Mrs. Pease. "If you went and bought that child a ring now it would look just as if you were paying her for not minding. You'd spoil all the lesson she's got, when she's worked so dreadful hard to learn it. You wait awhile."