in your malice deprived me of my dog. I
believe David Dalrymple to be innocent, but as to the rest of you, I may
as well say that I do not believe you, whatever you may tell me."

"Well, after that!" exclaimed all the children.

"I suppose, Helen, after that we may go away?" said Firefly, who was
looking very pale.

"No, Miss!" said Aunt Maria, "you must stay. Your sister Helen does not
wish me to do anything to disturb your father, but I assure you,
children, there are limits even to my patience, and I intend to visit
him this morning and tell him the whole story, unless before you leave
the room you tell me the truth."

Firefly's sallow little face grew whiter and whiter. She glanced
imploringly at David, who looked boldly and unconcernedly back at her;
then, throwing back his head, he marched up to Mrs. Cameron's side.

"You believe that _I_ am innocent, don't you?" he said.

"Certainly, my dear boy. I have said so."

"In that case, perhaps you would not mind my going out a little way on
the moor and having a good look round for the dog, he _may_ have
wandered there, you know, and broken his leg or something." Mrs. Cameron
shuddered. "In any case," continued David, with a certain air of modest
assurance, which became him very much, "it seems a pity that I should
waste time here."

"Certainly; go, my dear lad," answered Mrs. Cameron. "Bring my little
innocent suffering treasure back with you, and I will give you half a
crown."

David instantly left the room, unheeding a short, sharp cry which issued
from Firefly's lips as he passed her.

Most of the other children were laughing; it was impossible for them to
think of anything in connection with Scorpion except as a joke.

"Listen, Aunt Maria," said Helen. "I am afraid you must not treat my
brothers and sisters as you propose. Neither must you trouble father
without the doctor's permission. The fact is, Aunt Maria, we are
Maybrights, and every one who knows anything about us at all _must_ know
that we would scorn to tell a lie. Our father and our dear, dear
mother--your sister whom you loved, Aunt Maria, and for whose sake you
are interested in us--taught us to fear a lie more than anything,
_much_ more than punishment, _much_ more than discovery. Oh, yes, we
have heaps and heaps of faults; we can tease, we can be passionate, and
idle, and selfish; but being Maybrights, being the children of our own
father and mother, we can't lie. The fact is, we'd be afr