CHAPTER VII.

THE UNHAPPY LIAR.

ERNEST was not lying down. He sat in a rocking chair, his head resting

on his hand. He smiled when he saw his teacher, and asked her to sit

down.

"Mother has gone into Uncle Drake's. She will be back in a minute," he

said.

"I came to see you, Ernest. I think, though you haven't touched my

knife, you can tell me something about it."

Blushes dyed the boy's cheeks, as he answered,—

"I told mother, and she says ought to tell you."

His lips quivered as he added, "I didn't think you'd believe I had

taken it."

"You can never imagine how much pain I felt when I feared temptation

had proved too powerful for you. But you see what a good thing it is to

be known as a truthful boy. I then believed your word, as I do now."

"I was coming home with Henry," began Ernest, "and I saw him have a

beautiful knife. He said he had found it, and was going to keep it. I

thought he was telling the truth, till he tried to make me promise not

to tell. Then I was afraid there was something wrong. I told him, if

he knew whose it was, he ought to carry it back. I didn't see it again

till you held it up in school."

"And are you not afraid Henry will carry out his threat, and cut you

worse than he did before?"

"Mother has gone in to see Uncle John about that."

"Well, I'm going in there, too. It is time for me to tell his parents

what a bad influence he exerts in the school. Unless he repents, and

asks forgiveness, I cannot allow him to go back. We must have no

thieves nor liars there."

Unfortunately Mr. Drake had gone to a town at some distance, for a

load of lumber, and, was not expected home until late. Mrs. Drake

invited the teacher into the parlor, and seemed greatly distressed

when listening to the account of her son's bad conduct. She said, her

husband would be very angry, both with Henry and with her, for keeping

from him what she knew about the keys.

Miss Fosdick left a message for Mr. Drake, that Henry could not attend

school till he had made a confession of his sin.

When Mr. Monroe came home to supper, and learned the disgraceful story,

he started from his chair in great excitement, exclaiming,—

"Henry ought to be sent to the Reform School. If he goes on so, he will

come to the gallows. If he dares lay a finger on you, Ernest, I'll have

him put there. John may fume and rage as much as he will. I've borne

all that I shall from his family."

"Mary Anne feels dreadfully," urged Mrs. Monroe. "I'm so sorry for her

sake."

"She'll feel worse yet, Jane, if nothing is done to prevent Henry from

acting so shamefully. I yielded to you against my own judgment, and let

John believe our Ernest stole his keys. I'll do so no longer."

In the evening, he went over to talk with Mary Anne.

Henry knew that his mother had heard the story of the knife. At the

supper-table, the tears trickled down her cheeks, and once she said,—

"O Henry! You'll break my heart if you go on so. Why can't you confess

to the teacher, and be a good boy?"

Feeling very restless and unhappy, he went up to his room early; but

soon, hearing his uncle's voice, talking in excited tones, he crept

softly down to the door where he could hear every word.

"I ought to have done it before," Mr. Monroe was saying. "John has

reason to be angry. It isn't doing as I would have him do to me. Henry

grows worse every day, and something must be done to correct his

dreadful habit of lying."

"I'm afraid John will break every bone in his body," sobbed Mary Anne.

"If it hadn't been for that, I should have told him myself about the

keys."

"Henry deserves a good thrashing," answered the clock-maker. "It may

save him from the gallows. I shall tell John we all knew he was the

guilty one, and why I consented to keep it from him for a time. You had

better tell him, too."

"I can't! I can't! You don't realize how angry he'll be; and you know

he says he'll never forgive."

Henry had heard enough. Trembling from head to foot, he crept back to

his chamber; but he did not think of going to bed.

"I'll stay here till mother goes into her room, and then I'll run off.

I know there are places enough better than this. At any rate, I wont

stay here, where they're all against me, to be half killed by father."

Stealing to the closet, with his bare feet to the floor, he soon

discovered his father's pocket-book in the same pocket where the keys

had once been, and, taking from it five dollars, all the money it

contained, he wrapped it in a paper, and lay down in his clothes.

"I know mother wont tell father a word about it to-night," he said, his

teeth chattering, "and I'll be off before he's up. He said he shouldn't

be at home till eleven, 'cause the moon wouldn't rise till late; so it

will be light for me to run away."

The chest of tools · 第 7 / 9 章