"Saturday, July 3.—I fear Terence told a LIE! He certainly equivocated! Penelope and I have done our best to discover the real owner of THE gun, but as yet have failed. The secret rests with Terence, and to force his confidence would be unchristian; but it may transpire in time."
After this [come] sundry other jottings, such as—
"Monday, July 5.—Past four. Fanny Stack called. Penelope in the garden, as usual. All the trouble of entertaining falling upon my hands. Still, I do not repine. Providence is good; and Penelope of course, dear soul, should be allowed the recreation that pertains to her garden. And, indeed, a sweet place she makes of it."
After this again comes a third paragraph:
"Tuesday, July 6.—Terence again most wilful, and Kit somewhat saucy; yet my heart yearns over these children. God grant they be guided by a tender hand along the straight and narrow way!"
It is the next day, July 7, and the two Misses Blake, standing in the dining-room, are discussing Terence again. They have had a great shock, these two old ladies, in the discovery of a duplicity that they in their simplicity have magnified fourfold. How is it possible they should remember how they felt thirty years ago?
"I doubt we must keep a tight hand upon him, Penelope," says Miss Priscilla, sorrowfully. "The rector is very lax. He goes to him day by day, but beyond Greek and Latin seems to imbibe little else. And morals are the groundwork of all, and surely superior to the languages spoken by those who believed in heathen gods. I wonder at the rector, I must say. But we must only make up for his deficiences by keeping a tight hand, as I said before, upon this unhappy boy."
"Yes, but not too tight, Priscilla; that might only create a rebellious feeling and destroy all our chances of success. And we are bent on leading this poor dear boy (poor Katherine's boy, Priscilla) into the way of truth."
"Yes, yes; we must be cautious, most cautious, in our treatment," says Miss Priscilla, nervously, "and very careful of his comings and goings, without appearing to be so! Dear me! dear me! I wonder if the greatness of our cause justifies so much deceit. It sounds jesuitical, my dear Penelope, say what we can."