“Con showed me the little birds in their nest.”
“That is right, Hubert, good little boy. Did you or he touch the nest?”
“Yes.” Then, as Conrade started, and looked fiercely at him, “Yes you did, Con, you touched the inside to see what it was made of.”
“But what did you do with it?” asked Rachel.
“Left it there, up in the tree,” said the little boy.
“There, Rachel!” said the mother, triumphantly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Rachel, angrily, “only that Conrade is a worse boy than I had thought him, end has been teaching his little brother falsehood.”
The angry voice set Hubert crying, and little Cyril, who was very soft-hearted, joined in chorus, followed by the baby, who was conscious of something very disagreeable going on in her nursery. Thereupon, after the apparently most important business of comforting Miss Temple had been gone through, the court of justice adjourned, Rachel opening the door of Conrade’s little room, and recommending solitary imprisonment there till he should be brought to confession. She did not at all reckon on his mother going in with him, and shutting the door after her. It was not the popular notion of solitary confinement, and Rachel was obliged to retire, and wait in the drawing-room for a quarter of an hour before Fanny came down, and then it was to say—
“Do you know, Rachel dear, I am convinced that it must be a mistake. Conrade assures me he never touched the nest.”
“So he persists in it?”