“Oh,—there's something in it not to be seen, is there?” continued the inquisitor, as her cheeks reddened with fears of she knew not what.
“It is all truth, every word of it!” contended Colin.
“Ay, ay, my lad, we must see about that. I cannot let you send a whole pack of falsehoods over to Bramleigh, and make as much mischief in my family as your mother made in Mr. Longstaff's. It is needful to look after your doings. Is the letter in your pocket?”
Having received an answer in the affirmative, she directed Palethorpe to search him for it; an operation which that amiable individual very soon concluded by drawing the desired document from his trowsers.
“Oh, this is it, is it?” said Miss Sowersoft, as she partly opened it to assure herself. “Well, well,” folding it up again: “we'll read this by and by. Now, what did you hear us talking about? If you say anything shameful, now, and we shall know whether it is true or not directly that we hear it,—if you do not say something—a—. You know what Scripture tells you, always to speak well of your mistress and master. Be careful, now. What did we say?”
“Please, 'um,” replied Colin, “you said, that when people get married they strike a balance between them; and that if one thing was on one side, and nothing on the other, you should lose your resolution, and make a sacrifice of the little you possess, whatever it is.”
“Oh, you little wretch!” ejaculated Maria. “Go on with your lies, go on! and you shall have it on your shoulders when you have done. What else, you vile toad?”
Colin stood mute.
“What next, I say!” stormed the lady, with a furious stamp of the right foot.
“Why, then, mum,” added Colin, “I heard Palethorpe kiss you.”