"No, absolutely not. You were very deceitful and disobedient, slipping in to change them on the sly, that way, and you shall not wear the others by any means." But the next morning, as Doris stood at the window watching the girls as they walked away, she noted a curious bulging under the side of Zee's sweater. What could it be, she wondered? Then like a flash, she ran up the stairs. The Sunday shoes were gone--also the calf-skin ones. Grimly she waited until Zee came home. "Zee," she began softly, so father might not overhear, poor father, having so much trouble with bad people who would die and require funeral services, and good people who would live and never go to church--certainly he should not be bothered with Zee's shoe situation. "Did you wear your calf-skin shoes to school this morning?" "Y--yes, I wore them to school," said Zee with an almost imperceptible emphasis on the "to." "Did you take the Sunday ones with you?" "Yes. Doris, I can't bear those old stogies, and so I just wore them to school, and then I changed them in the cloak-room, and you can see yourself it wouldn't wear them out any--the good ones, I mean--just wearing them inside the school-room and not walking in them." "But you disobeyed." "I know it," said Zee cheerfully. "And you tried to deceive me." "I know it." "Now I have to punish you." "All right, General, but let me tell you in advance that whenever I can sneak those Sunday shoes to school, I am going to. So you'd better make it a good punishment while you are at it, so you won't have to do it over and over." Doris looked at her sister soberly, and her heart swelled with pity, for the sentence she was about to pronounce was dire indeed. She took the fine shoes from Zee. "This is the punishment. You can not wear the fine shoes again any place for six weeks--not to church, nor any place--just the stogies, everywhere you go. And you shall not have these again at all until you promise on your word of honor that you will not wear them without permission. I know you will not break a solemn promise." Zee's face paled with the solemnity of it. "Oh, Doris!" "You can talk it over with father if you like. I wanted to keep him from worry, but go to him if you wish." "Nothing doing," said Zee flatly. "He has that way of looking that makes you so ashamed of yourself. I think it is an imposition for fathers to look like that, that's what I think. Tell me one thing--does the promise still hold good about the new shoes--that they are to be finer and softer than these when they are worn out?" "Yes--when these are worn out." "These will last a year, I know." "Oh, Baby, you know we preachers can't afford to throw away perfectly good shoes like these." "Can't we give 'em to the heathen? They are awfully good shoes for the heathen, Doris. Why, they would last forever, and keep the snakes off, and-- Shoes like that were just intended for heathen."