"Lotty, look here! just tell me, word for word, what aunty said about going away, and what led to her saying it at all, and I won't disturb you any more to-night, I won't indeed."
"Dear me! what a nuisance you are, Mechie, with your curiosity and your questions!" cried Charlotte, impatiently. "Well, remember you are to keep to your word, for it's little enough I have to tell you, and little satisfied you will be with it, any more than you are now; but I can't help that, bear in mind. Let me see: aunt had been giving me a lecture on the subject of truthfulness, though why I cannot conceive, for no person is more truthful than I am. I hate a falsehood, and never utter one—though I don't pretend to say I go headforemost at everything in the steeplechase fashion you do," continued she, correcting herself rather, as the "cloud-hand" rose to her recollection as last she saw it creeping through a cleft on the mountain top. "I do not consider that necessary for either the sense or truthfulness of anything."
"But, Lotty," I said in a deprecatory voice, fearing to offend her, "don't you remember what uncle said?"
"Don't bring forward what uncle and aunt say about the matter," broke in Charlotte, impatiently. "They are full of old-fashioned notions on that and many other points not worth repeating."
I felt my cheeks burn at this contemptuous treatment of opinions I perfectly reverenced, but continued gently: "What uncle said would be just as applicable to any period, past or present. He said that if in describing any circumstance, conversation, or even feelings, the narrator omitted or altered the smallest part, with deceptive intent to change the character of the whole statement and produce a different impression on the minds of the hearers than a straightforward account of the simple facts would have done, it was tantamount to asserting a positive falsehood, since 'lying is but the intention to deceive;' and that phase of it is as hateful and sinful in the sight of God as any other."
"According to that, then, an abridged book, in which all that is objectionable is left out, is not worth reading, because the remainder, though good, gives rise to an erroneous impression of the whole."
"That is hardly a good illustration, Lotty," I answered. "It admits of many positions, which truth does not."
"I don't see how that can be," objected Lotty.
"Well, this one alone is sufficient: In altering a book by, as you say, leaving out the objectionable parts, the motive could only be a good one, and not under any circumstances with an intention of deceiving; it is done with a wish to render the work to all readers harmless."
At this juncture Charlotte gave so loud a snort in pretended imitation of snoring that it quite startled me.