“Your principles!” laughed Herbert “You, prying, meddling Meta; talking about other people’s curiosity!  Well, that’s a good one!”

“You insulting boy!  I’ll tell mamma of you,” retorted Meta, beginning to cry.

“Ha! ha!  I wish you would! tell her my remarks about the key, and she’ll soon make you explain where it belongs, and how it came into your possession.”

At that Meta, deigning no reply, put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried away toward the house.

“There, she’s gone to tell mamma,” said Harry.

“Not she,” said Herbert, “she knows better; she’d only get reproved for telling tales, and be forced to tell all about that key.  She’s been at some mischief, I haven’t a doubt:  she’s always prying, and meddling with what she’s been told not to touch.  Mamma says that’s her besetting sin.”

“And what does she say is yours?” asked Rosie, looking him steadily in the eye.

Herbert colored and turned away.

His mother had told him more than once or twice, that he was quite too much disposed to domineer over, and reprove his younger brother and sisters.

“Well, I don’t care!” he muttered to himself, “’tisn’t half so mean a fault as Meta’s.  I’m the oldest, and Harry and the girls ought to be willing to let me tell them of it when they go wrong.”

The key, which belonged to a closet in Mr. Lilburn’s dressing-room, seemed to burn in Meta’s pocket.  She was frightened that Herbert and the others had seen it.

“They all looked as if they knew something was wrong,” she said to herself, “and to be sure what business could I have with a door-key.  Dear me! why wasn’t I more careful.  But it’s like ‘murder will out;’ or what the Bible says; ‘Be sure your sin will find you out.’”

She was afraid to meet her mother with the key in her possession, so took so circuitous a route to reach the house, and walked so slowly that the others were there some time before her.

Her mother was on the veranda looking out for her.  “Why, how late you are, Meta,” she said.  “Make haste to your room and have your hair and dress made neat; for the tea-bell will soon ring.”

“Yes, ma’am,” and Meta flew into the house and up to her room, only too glad of an excuse for not stopping to be questioned.

She was down again barely in time to take her seat at the table with the others.  She glanced furtively at the faces of her mother, grandmother, and Aunt Elsie, and drew a sigh of relief as she perceived that they had evidently learned nothing yet of her misconduct.

After tea she watched Mr. Lilburn’s movements and was glad to see him step into the library, seat himself before the fire, and take up a book.

“He’s safe to stay there for awhile,” she thought, “so fond of reading as he is,” and ran up to her room for the key, which she had left there hidden under her pillow.

She secured it unobserved and stole cautiously to the door of his dressing-room.  She found it slightly ajar, pushed it a little wider open, crept in, gained the closet door, and was in the act of putting the key into the lock, when a deep groan, coming from within the closet, apparently, so startled her that she uttered a faint cry, and dropped the key on the floor; then a hollow voice said, “If you ever touch that again, I’ll—­”