IT seemed only a moment after Tom had decided that Sara must tell the truth that Alice came into the sitting-room to find the goldfish bowl broken in a thousand pieces and the gasping fish beating themselves on the floor. The first thing was to rescue the fish. The next was to ask that mother's classic question:
"Who did this?"
Alice asked it in the silence of a deserted room, but she surmised that when goldfish lie flapping among the pieces of their broken bowl, children are not far off. Again she asked into the silence:
"Who broke the bowl?" and from under the table came Sara.
"'Twas me bwoke it," said this female Washington. That is what she seemed to her mother. That was what she seemed to her delighted father. His words seemed to have borne fruit already.
"How did it happen? How did you do it, darling?" they urged. Sara was prolific in detail.
"I runned up into 'em smash! Bang! Bang! I runned into 'em, I broke 'em. My, I broke 'em up!" She explained, it seemed to her mother, with an air of pride.
"Were you playing?"
"Yes; I was playing with a little girl."
"What little girl?"
"I don't know her name," Sara gave back guardedly. "She just came in. She's a bad girl." Sara stamped her foot and frowned at the bad little girl's villainy.
