"It is my duty; I suppose I must go through with it," says poor Miss Priscilla, sighing; and then she throws wide the window and calls to Terence to come to her.
"Where have you been, Terence?"
"But, my dear Terence, why at the back gate? Such a nice day for a good long wholesome walk! Why spend it at the back gate?"
"Because—that is—I——"
"My dear boy, be calm. Wait a moment now, Terence, and don't hurry yourself. There is no occasion for haste."
"I was only going to say, aunt——"
"Pause now, Terence: consider well before you speak. Though, indeed, there should be no need for consideration when only the simple but lovely truth is required. Truth is always lovely, Terence; it is a flower of great beauty. Collect yourself, now." (This is a favorite formula with the Misses Blake.) "Don't tell a lie, Terence!"
"Why should I tell a lie?" says Terence, fiercely, feeling at this moment that death, when compared with nagging, would be sweet.
"Oh, Terence, what a tone! and to your good aunt Penelope, who loves you! Such a tone as that, my dear, is unchristian. Now, we don't want to know what you were doing at the back gate. Why should you be afraid of us? Are we not your greatest friends? But what could you have been doing for half an hour at the back gate, Terence?"