"ElizaLeeFollen-TheTalkativeWig" - читать интересную книгу автора (Follen Eliza Lee)

Alice tried to forget that she was breaking her promise, and enjoyed
herself pretty well.

When she went home, her mother said, "Why, Alice, your hair is all
over your face; how comes that?"

"The string was nearly off when I went in, and then it fell on the
floor, and aunt said I looked better without it. Here is the string,
which she picked up."

"I should have thought your aunt would have let you go up to Jane,
and have it tied properly; you should have asked her leave."

"I suppose," said the father, "that Alice felt too shy. It is no
matter for one day. Alice, I dare say, kept her promise as well as
she could; and, next week, she shall have her box; a right pretty
one it is."

Alice kissed her father and mother, and went to bed; but there was a
little cloud between her and the all-pure Being to whom she prayed
that night, and her precious tears wetted my locks, ere she went to
sleep.

Alice felt that she had not been true to her promise, and her
parents' entire trust was the most severe reproach. Still she could
not quite make up her mind to say so; and she tried not to think so.
She had set her heart upon the little work box made and ornamented
by her father whom she loved dearly. One day after another passed
away, and every day it became harder to confess her fault. How often
I heard her sigh during these days! Nothing makes a perfectly light
heart but entire uprightness.

One day, her father called her to him, and said, "Come, Alice, and
tell me which color I shall use to ornament the border of your box--
blue or green?"

"Just which you please, Father."

"But you know it is for you, and I want to know what you like best."

"If it should ever be mine, Father, I like blue best."

"Blue it shall be," said her father. "It will be finished to-morrow,
and then your month for keeping your hair tied will end. I think
your eyes are better, and you have learned also that you can keep a
promise. You are my good child."

Alice could not speak. She ran out of doors into her garden where
her father had made her a little arbor, and there, all alone, she