“Call her in,” said the lady of the house; “let us see her directly.” The maid, who was afraid that the girl’s innocence would appear if she were produced, hesitated; but upon her mistress repeating her commands, she was forced to obey. The girl came in with a look of simplicity; but when she saw a room full of company she was a little abashed. Rosamond and Laura looked at her and one another with surprise, for it was the same little girl whom they had seen weaving lace. “Is not it she?” whispered Rosamond to her sister. “Yes, it is; but hush,” said Laura, “she does not know us. Don’t say a word, let us hear what she will say.” Laura got behind the rest of the company as she spoke, so that the little girl could not see her. “Vastly well!” said Bell’s mother; “I am waiting to see how long you will have the assurance to stand there with that innocent look. Did you ever see that basket before?” “Yes, ma’am,” said the girl. “_Yes_, _Ma’am_!” cried the maid; “and what else do you know about it? You had better confess it at once, and mistress, perhaps, will say no more about it.” “Yes, do confess it,” added Bell, earnestly. “Confess what, madam?” said the little girl; “I never touched the basket, madam.” “You never _touched_ it; but you confess,” interrupted Bell’s mother, “that you _did see_ it before. And, pray, how came you to see it? You must have opened my wardrobe.” “No, indeed, ma’am,” said the little girl; “but I was waiting in the passage, ma’am, and this door was partly open; and looking at the maid, you know, I could not help seeing it.” “Why, how could you see through the doors of my wardrobe?” rejoined the lady. The maid, frightened, pulled the little girl by the sleeve. “Answer me,” said the lady, “where did you see this basket?” Another stronger pull. “I saw it, madam, in her hands,” looking at the maid; “and—” “Well, and what became of it afterwards?” “Ma’am”—hesitating—“miss pulled, and by accident—I believe, I saw, ma’am—miss, you know what I saw.” “I do not know—I do not know; and if I did, you had no business there; and mamma won’t believe you, I am sure.” Everybody else, however, did believe; and their eyes were fixed upon Bell in a manner which made her feel rather ashamed. “What do you all look at me so for? Why do you all look so? And am I to be put to shame on my birthday?” cried she, bursting into a roar of passion; “and all for this nasty thing!” added she, pushing away the remains of the basket, and looking angrily at Rosamond. “Bell! Bell! O, fie! fie!—Now I am ashamed of you; that’s quite rude to your cousin,” said her mother, who was more shocked at her daughter’s want of politeness than at her falsehood. “Take her away, Nancy, till she has done crying,” added she to the maid, who accordingly carried off her pupil.