alling into falsehood should have a treat or festival of their own
choosing. On the eventful day of decision, those orphans, male and
female, who had not for a twelve-month deviated from the truth by a
hair's-breadth, raised their little white hands (emblematic of their
pure hearts and lips), and were solemnly counted. Then came the unhappy
moment when a scattering of small grimy paws was timidly put up, and
their falsifying owners confessed that they had fibbed more than once
during the year. These tearful fibbers were also counted, and sent from
the room, while the non-fibbers chose their reward, which was to sail
around the Bass Rock and the Isle of May in a steam tug.

On the festival day, the matron of the orphanage chanced on the happy
thought that it might have a moral effect on the said fibbers to see the
non-fibbers depart in a blaze of glory; so they were taken to the beach
to watch the tug start on its voyage. The confessed criminals looked
wretched enough, Ronald wrote, when forsaken by their virtuous
playmates, who stepped jauntily on board, holding their sailor hats
on their heads and carrying nice little luncheon baskets; so miserably
unhappy, indeed, did they seem that certain sympathetic and ill-balanced
persons sprang to their relief, providing them with sandwiches,
sweeties, and pennies. It was a lovely day, and when the fibbers' tears
were dried they played merrily on the sand, their games directed and
shared by the aforesaid misguided persons.

Meantime a high wind had sprung up at sea, and the tug was tossed to
and fro upon the foamy deep. So many and so varied were the ills of
the righteous orphans that the matron could not attend to all of them
properly, and they were laid on benches or on the deck, where they
languidly declined luncheon, and wept for a sight of the land. At five
the tug steamed up to the home landing. A few of the voyagers were able
to walk ashore, some were assisted, others were carried; and as the
pale, haggard, truthful company gathered on the beach, they were met by
a boisterous, happy crowd of Ananiases and Sapphiras, sunburned, warm,
full of tea and cakes and high spirits, and with the moral law already
so uncertain in their minds that at the sight of the suffering non-liars
it tottered to its fall.

Ronald hopes that Lady Rowardennan and the matron may perhaps have
gained some useful experience by the incident, though the orphans,
truthful and untruthful, are hopelessly