"You'll have to tell her."

Mrs. Pease turned on Grandmother Atkins, and New England motherhood was strong in her face. "Mother," said she, "I don't want Comfort to be sick, and she sha'n't be if I can help it; but I've got a duty to her that's beyond looking out for her health. She's got a lesson to learn that's more important than any she's got in school, and I'm afraid she won't learn it at all unless she learns it by the hardest; and it won't do for me to help her."

"Well, I suppose you're right, Em'ly," said Grandmother Atkins; "but I declare I'm dreadfully sorry for the child."

"You ain't any sorrier than I am," said Comfort's mother. And she wiped her eyes now and then as she cleared away the breakfast dishes.

As for Comfort, she went on her way to school, looking as industriously and anxiously at the ground as if she were a little robin seeking for her daily food. Under the snowy blackberry-vines peered Comfort, under frozen twigs, and in the blue hollows of the snow, seeking, as it were, in the little secret places of nature for her own little secret of childish vanity and disobedience. It made no difference to her that it was not reasonable to look on that part of the road, since she could not have lost the ring there. She had a desperate hope, which was not affected by reason at all, and she determined to look everywhere.

It was very cold still, and when she came in sight of the school-house not a scholar was to be seen. Either they had not arrived, or were huddling over the red-hot stove inside.

Comfort trudged past the school-house and went down the road to the old Loomis place. She searched again every foot of the road, but there was no gleam of gold in its white, frozen surface. There was the cold sparkle of the frost-crystals, and that was all.

Comfort went back. At the turn of that road she saw Matilda Stebbins coming down the other. The pink tip of Matilda's nose, and her winking black eyes, just appeared above her red tippet.

"Hullo!" she sung out, in a m.u.f.fled voice.

"Hullo!" responded Comfort, faintly.

Matilda looked at her curiously when she came up.

"What's the matter?" said she.

"Nothing," replied Comfort.

"I thought you acted funny. What have you been up that road for?"

Comfort walked along beside Matilda in silence.

"What have you been up that road for?" repeated Matilda.

"Won't you ever tell?" said Comfort.

"No, I won't:

"Honest and true, Black and blue, Lay me down and cut me in two."

"Well, I've lost it."

Matilda knew at once what Comfort meant. "You ain't!" she cried, stopping short and opening wide eyes of dismay at Comfort over the red tippet.

"Yes, I have."

"Where'd you lose it?"

"I felt of my pocket after I got back to school yesterday, after we'd been up to the old Loomis house, and I couldn't find the ring."

"My!" said Matilda.

Comfort gave a stifled sob.

Matilda turned short around with a jerk. "Le'ss go up that road and hunt again," said she; "there's plenty of time before the bell rings.

Come along, Comfort Pease."

So the two little girls went up the road and hunted, but they did not find the ring. "n.o.body would have picked it up and kept it; everybody around here is honest," said Matilda. "It's dreadfully funny."

Comfort wept painfully under the folds of her mother's green shawl as they went back.

"Did your mother scold you?" asked Matilda. There was something very innocent and sympathizing and honest about Matilda's black eyes as she asked the question.

"No," faltered Comfort. She did not dare tell Matilda that her mother knew nothing at all about it.

Matilda, as they went along, put an arm around Comfort under her shawl. "Don't cry; it's too bad," said she. But Comfort wept harder.

"Look here," said Matilda. "Comfort, your mother wouldn't let you buy another ring with that gold dollar, would she?"

"That gold dollar's to keep," sobbed Comfort; "it ain't to spend."

And, indeed, she felt as if spending that gold dollar would be almost as bad as losing the ring; the bare idea of it horrified her.

"Well, I didn't s'pose it was," said Matilda, abashedly. "I just happened to think of it." Suddenly she gave Comfort a little poke with her red-mittened hand. "Don't you cry another minute, Comfort Pease," she cried. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll ask my Uncle Jared to give me a gold dollar, and then I'll give it to you to buy a gold ring."

"I don't believe he will," sobbed Comfort.

"Yes, he will. He always gives me everything I ask him for. He thinks more of me than he does of Rosy and Imogen, you know, 'cause he was going to get married once, when he was young, and she died, and I look like her."

"Were you named after her?" inquired Comfort.

"No; her name was Ann Maria; but I look like her. Uncle Jared will give me a gold dollar, and I'll ask him to take us to Bolton in his sleigh Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and then you can buy another ring. Don't you cry another mite, Comfort Pease."

And poor Comfort tried to keep the tears back as the bell began to ring, and she and Matilda hastened to the school-house.

Matilda put up her hand and whispered to her in school-time. "You come over to my house Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and I'll get Uncle Jared to take us," she whispered. And Comfort nodded soberly. Comfort tried to learn her arithmetic lesson, but she could not remember the seven multiplication table, and said in the cla.s.s that five times seven were fifty-seven, and went to the foot. She cried at that, and felt a curious satisfaction in having something to cry for besides the loss of the ring.

Comfort did not look any more for the ring that day nor the next. The next day was Friday, and Matilda met her at school in the morning with an air of triumph. She plunged her hand deep in her pocket, and drew it out closed in a tight pink fist. "Guess what I've got in here, Comfort Pease," said she. She unclosed her fingers a little at a time, until a gold dollar was visible in the hollow of her palm.

"There, what did I tell you" she said. "And he says he'll take us to Bolton if he don't have to go to Ware to see about buying a horse.

You come over to-morrow, right after dinner."

The next morning after breakfast Comfort asked her mother if she might go over to Matilda's that afternoon.

"Do you feel fit to go?" her mother said, with a keen look at her.

Comfort was pale and sober and did not have much appet.i.te. It had struck her several times that her mother's and also her grandmother's manner toward her was a little odd, but she did not try to understand it.

"Yes, ma'am," said Comfort.

"What are you going to do over there?"

Comfort hesitated. A pink flush came on her face and neck. Her mother's eyes upon her were sharper than ever. "Matilda said maybe her Uncle Jared would take us a sleigh-ride to Bolton," she faltered.