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Page 33
At last, Grandma said: "I know, my dear, you do not MEAN to
forget, but you DO forget. Now this forgetting must stop. If you
run up those Front Stairs again, Marjorie, I'm going to punish
you."
"Do, Grandma," said Marjorie, cheerfully; "perhaps that will make
me stop it. For honest and true I just resolve I won't do it, and
then before I know it I'm just like Jack and the Beanstalk, 'a-
hitchet, a-hatchet, a-up I go!' and, though I don't mean to, there
I am!"
Grandma felt like smiling at Marjorie's naive confession, but she
said very seriously: "That's the trouble, dearie, you DO forget
and you must be made to remember. I hope it won't be necessary,
but if it is, you'll have to be punished."
"What will the punishment be, Grandma?" asked Marjorie, with great
interest. She was hanging around Mrs. Sherwood's neck and patting
her face as she talked. There was great affection between these
two, and though Marjorie was surprised at the new firmness her
grandmother was showing, she felt no resentment, but considerable
curiosity.
"Never mind; perhaps you'll never deserve punishment and then you
will never know what it would have been. Indeed, I'm not sure
myself, but if you don't keep off those Front Stairs we'll both of
us find out in short order."
Grandma was smiling, but Marjorie knew from her determined tone
that she was very much in earnest.
For several days after that Marjorie kept carefully away from the
Front Stairs, except when she was wearing her dainty house
slippers. It was an understood exception that, when dressed for
dinner or on company occasions and her feet shod with light, thin-
soled shoes, Marjorie might walk properly up or down the Front
Stairs. The restriction only applied to her heavy-soled play shoes
or muddied boots.
So all went well, and the question of punishment being
unnecessary, it was almost forgotten.
One morning, Marjorie was getting ready to go rowing with Carter.
Molly was to go too, and as the girls had learned to sit
moderately still in the boat, the good-natured gardener frequently
took them on short excursions.
It was a perfect summer day, and Marjorie sang a gay little tune
as she made herself ready for her outing. She tied up her dark
curls with a pink ribbon, and as a hat was deemed unnecessary by
her elders, she was glad not to be bothered with one. She wore a
fresh, pink gingham dress and thick, heavy-soled shoes, lest the
boat should be damp. She took with her a small trowel, for she was
going to dig some ferns to bring home; and into her pocket she
stuffed a little muslin bag, which she always carried, in case she
found anything in the way of pebbles or shells to bring home for
her Memory Book. She danced down the Other Stairs, kissed Grandma
good-by, and picking up her basket for the ferns, ran merrily off.
Molly was waiting for her, and together they trotted down the
sandy path to the boathouse. It had rained the day before and the
path was a bit muddy, but with heavy shoes the children did not
need rubbers.
"Isn't it warm?" said Molly. "I 'most wish I'd worn a hat, it's so
sunny."
"I hate a hat," said Marjorie, "but I'll tell you what, Molly, if
we had my red parasol we could hold it over our heads."
"Just the thing, Mopsy; do skip back and get it. I'll hold your
basket, and Carter isn't here yet."
Marjorie ran back as fast as she could, pattering along the muddy
path and thinking only of the red parasol, bounded in at the front
door and up the Front Stairs!
Grandma was in the upper hall, and her heart sank as she saw the
child, thoughtlessly unconscious of wrongdoing, clatter up the
stairs, her heavy boots splashing mud and wet on every polished
step.
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