"I've kept that, part of the time, I'm sure; not always, I suppose."
"Then you don't remember having broken it?"
"No—yes, sir; I broke it to-day when I teased Ellie."
"Is that the only time you remember?"
"I broke it last Saturday when I went off with Harry's sled."
"And yesterday when you ran off and left Benny crying alone on the sidewalk, and Christmas day when you chose the best book, and—"
"Pray, don't go on, father, don't tell me any more," interrupted poor Joel, reddening more and more as his father recalled the things he had quite forgotten. "I know I can't keep that rule; I don't believe any boy keeps it."
"You know that you have not kept it; not that you can not keep it. Well, let us go on: 'Third, I am resolved to tell the whole and exact truth always.' How about this?"
Joel's conscience and memory, now pretty wide awake, began to murmur accusations on this point too. He had always scorned to tell an open, deliberate lie, and he knew he could say Yes to a question on that point. But he felt that "the whole and exact truth" was a little different, and he feared his father's memory would be better than his, so he stammered out, "I haven't told a lie this year past; you know I couldn't, father."