At the tea-table Emily told a long story about herself and Jessie wandering away into the woods, and getting sadly frightened. She was very animated, and, but for Jessie’s sad face, and her occasional look of surprise, might have made herself believed. But that grave face, so unusual to his darling Jessie, told Uncle Morris that Emily was palming off a falsehood upon them. Guy also was sure she was telling a lie. When she had finished her story, he said,
“But did you not hear us shout and halloo?”
“No, indeed. If we had, we could have easily answered back,” said the lying child.
“O Emily!” groaned Jessie.
“We shouted like one o’clock!” said Hugh.
“Pray tell us, Master Hugh, what shouting like one o’clock means?” asked Uncle Morris, who had a very great dislike to unmeaning phrases.
“Well, very loud, then,” replied Hugh, blushing.
“But you didn’t shout loud enough for us to hear,” said Emily, secretly pinching Jessie, by way of imposing silence upon her.
“It’s very strange,” said Guy. “It was certainly not more than ten minutes from the time we left the quarry, before we saw you coming over the top of the hill in the pasture, so that you could not have been very far in the woods when we were shouting like—like—”
“Like boys in search of two young ladies supposed to be lost or hidden,” said Uncle Morris, helping Guy to a comparison, and at the same time hinting his suspicions of the truth in the case.