"Tell me, Tom," his mother asked.
"I'll not tell you. Rita and Dic may, but I'll not. I'm no tell-tale." No, not he!
The Chief Justice turned upon Rita, looked sternly over her glasses, and again insisted:—
"What have you been doing, girl? Tell me at once. I command you by the duty you owe your mother."
"I can't tell you, mother. Please don't ask," replied Rita, hanging her head.
"You can tell me, and you shall," cried the fond mother.
"I can't tell you, mother, and I won't. Please don't ask."
"Do my ears deceive me? You refuse to obey your parents? 'Obey thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long'—"
Tom interrupted her: "Oh, mother, for goodness' sake, quit firing that quotation at Rita. I'm sick of it. If it's true, I ought to have died long ago. I don't mind you. Never did. Never will."
"Yes, you do, Tom," answered his mother, meekly. "And this disobedient girl shall mind me, too." Rita had never in all her life disobeyed a command from either father or mother. She was obedient from habit and inclination, and in her guileless, affectionate heart believed that a terrific natural cataclysm of some sort would surely occur should she even think of disobeying.