“You have all behaved simply outrageously.” That was Mrs. Winslow’s verdict, when she had heard the story, which Dulcie, as the eldest of the party, poured forth without concealment, and with a strong desire to assume the greater part of responsibility for the escapade. “You shall all be severely punished. Dulcie and Molly, go up to your room, and stay there till I can come to you. Come with me, Paul, and get your face washed. Your mother would faint on the spot if she saw you in this condition. If I had my way, I would give you each a good whipping, but I believe corporal punishment is not allowed by your much too-indulgent parents.” And with a look which expressed unutterable things, Grandma swept Paul away to the pantry, and the two little girls went slowly up-stairs to the nursery. “Well, did you have a good time in the Square?” inquired Daisy, looking up from her book at her sisters’ entrance. “We didn’t go to see Miss Polly, after all. We listened through the wall, and heard people talking, so we knew she must have company. Good gracious! Dulcie, what’s the matter with your hat?” Dulcie collapsed into a chair, and burst into tears. “It’s all ‘the stolen child’s’ fault,” explained Molly. “She wasn’t stolen, after all, and her mother was a dreadful person, who was very rude to us, and her brother and Paul got into a fight, and----” “Oh, Molly, how awful!” gasped Daisy. “You don’t mean Paul really fought?” “Yes, he did, and Dulcie fought too, and sat on that horrid boy’s head, and made him stop hurting Paul, and Grandma says we’ve got to be punished.” CHAPTER IX MISS POLLY’S PIANO “It’s very humiliating to be in disgrace, and not allowed to have dinner with your family,” said Molly, with a long sigh. “I hate bread and milk, don’t you, Dulcie?” Dulcie did not answer, but pushed away her almost untouched bowl, and rested her elbows on the nursery table. Her face was red and swollen with crying, and she looked the picture of woe. Molly regarded her critically. “You haven’t eaten anything,” she said. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be hungry before to-morrow morning?” Dulcie shook her head. “I don’t care if I am,” she said, drearily. “I can’t swallow; every time I try something chokes me.” “Is your throat sore?” Molly inquired, with a vivid recollection of Maud’s frequent sore throats. “No, it isn’t sore, but there’s a lump in it. Oh, Molly, it’s awful! I was never so unhappy before in my life.” Molly looked very much troubled. “Is it because Grandma wouldn’t let us go down to dinner, and says we’re not to have any dessert for a week?” she questioned doubtfully. “Oh, I don’t mind that so much. It’s horrid, of course, but I could bear it if it wasn’t for other things. Grandma says I’m a disgrace to the family, and she’s going to write Papa about it.”