for the little doggie that did the brave deed,
and who of us will be strong enough to say the truth to them: 'The
humble little friend is gone where go the beasts that perish.'"

WAS IT HEAVEN? OR HELL?

CHAPTER I

"You told a LIE?"

"You confess it--you actually confess it--you told a lie!"

CHAPTER II

The family consisted of four persons: Margaret Lester, widow, aged
thirty six; Helen Lester, her daughter, aged sixteen; Mrs. Lester's
maiden aunts, Hannah and Hester Gray, twins, aged sixty-seven. Waking
and sleeping, the three women spent their days and night in adoring the
young girl; in watching the movements of her sweet spirit in the mirror
of her face; in refreshing their souls with the vision of her bloom
and beauty; in listening to the music of her voice; in gratefully
recognizing how rich and fair for them was the world with this presence
in it; in shuddering to think how desolate it would be with this light
gone out of it.

By nature--and inside--the aged aunts were utterly dear and lovable and
good, but in the matter of morals and conduct their training had been so
uncompromisingly strict that it had made them exteriorly austere, not to
say stern. Their influence was effective in the house; so effective
that the mother and the daughter conformed to its moral and religious
requirements cheerfully, contentedly, happily, unquestionably. To do
this was become second nature to them. And so in this peaceful
heaven there were no clashings, no irritations, no fault-finding, no
heart-burnings.

In it a lie had no place. In it a lie was unthinkable. In it speech
was restricted to absolute truth, iron-bound truth, implacable and
uncompromising truth, let the resulting consequences be what they might.
At last, one day, under stress of circumstances, the darling of the
house sullied her lips with a lie--and confessed it, with tears
and self-upbraidings. There are not any words that can paint the
consternation of the aunts. It was as if the sky had crumpled up and
collapsed and the earth had tumbled to ruin with a crash. They sat side
by side, white and stern, gazing speechless upon the culprit, who was on
her knees before them with her face buried first in one lap and then the
other, moaning and sobbing, and appealing for sympathy and forgiveness
and getting no response, humbly kissing the hand of the one, then of the
other, only to see it withdrawn as suffering defilement by those soiled