“And it answered?” said Rose breathlessly.
“It answered. Of course, he went through a very rough time, poor little lad. You see, the other boys necessarily knew what had happened, more or less, and boys aren’t very merciful to that sort of thing, I’m afraid. They practically sent him to Coventry for the rest of the term—one couldn’t wonder, altogether. But it was the turning point in that boy’s life, I do honestly believe. Will kept an eye on him, and he told me it was piteous to see the poor child trying to redeem his character, and prove himself trustworthy. You see, it was a practical demonstration of the fact that a liar is something hateful to his fellow beings. It might not have been the very highest grounds for reformation, but, honestly, it succeeded where pretty nearly everything else had failed.”
“What happened to him afterwards?”
“He got a scholarship, went to Eton, and did extremely well. And I can answer for it, out of my personal knowledge, that even before he left Hurst, he’d overcome that tendency absolutely. He was as truthful as any other boy. Will talked the whole thing out with him in the end, and traced it to his father having frightened him with punishments and threats as a mere baby, till the poor child had absolutely got into the habit of fibbing whenever he thought any one was going to be angry with him. I’ve made a long story of it, I’m afraid, but that was far and away the worst case I’ve ever known, and I’m quite sure Cecil’s mere bad habit isn’t anything like that now, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. It’s more like a—a sort of trick, with Ces. Quite meaningless, sometimes—and silly. He isn’t what I’d call deceitful, a bit. I can’t explain——”
“But, Mrs. Aviolet, I don’t think you need explain any further. I understand—truly I do. I’ve had heaps of experience with boys, after all, and I know the kind of thing you mean quite well. Just silly story-telling—in fact, a bad habit, as I said. I know it must be worrying for you—dreadfully—but, really and truly, it isn’t very uncommon. He’ll get out of it. They all do.”
She spoke with breezy certainty.
“You’ve bucked me up,” said Rose simply. “Thank you very much. I daresay I’ve exaggerated the whole thing in my mind, a bit. Somehow I hadn’t realized that there was any one else with exactly the same trouble.”
“Why, of course there is! It’s a thing we’ve had to contend with again and again. And it always comes right in the end, Mrs. Aviolet.”
The obviously sincere assertion, delivered with Mrs. Lambert’s honest, friendly blue eyes fixed candidly upon Rose’s, brought a sudden warmth to her heart.