dears.'
So then the children went to bed. And when the house was quiet again,
Alison slipped down and put back Ethel's jewelry, fitting the things
into their cases and boxes as correctly as she could. 'Ethel won't
notice,' she thought, but of course Ethel did.
So that next day each child was asked separately by Ethel's mother who
had been playing with Ethel's jewelry. And Conrad and George said they
would rather not say. This was a form they always used in that family
when that sort of question was asked, and it meant, 'It wasn't me, and I
don't want to sneak.'
And when it came to Alison's turn, she found to her surprise and horror
that instead of saying, 'I played with them,' she had said, 'I would
rather not say.'
Of course the mother thought that it was Kenneth who had had the jewels
to play with. So when it came to his turn he was not asked the same
question as the others, but his aunt said:
'Kenneth, you are a very naughty little boy to take your cousin Ethel's
jewelry to play with.'
'I didn't,' said Kenneth.
'Hush! hush!' said the aunt, 'do not make your fault worse by
untruthfulness. And what have you done with the amethyst ring?'
Kenneth was just going to say that he had given it back to Alison, when
he saw that this would be sneakish. So he said, getting hot to the ears,
'You don't suppose I've stolen your beastly ring, do you, Auntie?'
'Don't you dare to speak to me like that,' the aunt very naturally
replied. 'No, Kenneth, I do not think you would steal, but the ring is
missing and it must be found.'
Kenneth was furious and frightened. He stood looking down and kicking
the leg of the chair.
'You had better look for it. You will have plenty of time, because I
shall not allow you to go to the picnic with the others. The mere taking
of the jewelry was wrong, but if you had owned your fault and asked
Ethel's pardon, I should have overlooked it. But you have told me an
untruth and you have lost the ring. You are a very wicked child, and it
will make your dear mother very unhappy when she hears of it. That her
boy should be a liar. It is worse than being a thief!'
At this Kenneth's fortitude gave way, and he lost his head. 'Oh, don't,'
he said, 'I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. Oh! don't tell mother I'm a
thief and a liar. Oh! Aunt Effie, please, _please_ don't.' And with that
he began to cry.
Any doubts Aunt Effie might have had were settled by this outbreak. It
was now quite plain to he
|