Mrs. Maynard's face expressed a humorous sort of resignation, for she was accustomed to these confessions.
"Well, you see, Mothery, we had the Jinks Club here to-day."
King's voice was very wheedlesome, and he had his arm round his mother's neck, for he well knew her affection for her only son often overcame her duty of discipline.
"And the Jinksies cut up some awful piece of mischief,—is that it?"
"Yes, Mother; but it's a truly awful one this time, and I'm the one to blame."
"No, you're not!" broke in Marjorie; "at least, not entirely. I proposed the game."
"Well," said Mrs. Maynard, "before you quarrel for the honor of this dreadful deed, suppose you tell me what it is."
For answer, King dragged the big picture out from behind the sofa, and
Mrs. Maynard's smile changed to a look of real dismay.
"Oh, King!" she said; "that's your father's favorite engraving!"
"Yes'm, I know it. That's the awfullest part of it. But, Mother, it was an accident."