"Chris, I am shocked, very, very shocked," Granny said gravely. "You must stand in the corner for a quarter of an hour."
The little beggar wailed again; real, unfeigned tears this time.
"I don't—want to—go into—the corner," he said sobbing. "It's all—your fault, Briggs."
Briggs shook her head slowly and solemnly from side to side.
"Oh, Master Chris!" she exclaimed, "is that a way for a nice young gentleman to speak?" Then she left the room with dignity.
Chris, looking after her with impotent anger, moved towards the corner with laggard steps, crying bitterly as he did so.
"Must I go into the corner, my Granny?" he wailed. "Uncle Godfrey is never sent into the corner."
"Yes, yes, you must, Chris," she said, obliging herself to be firm.
The little beggar looked entreatingly with large tearful eyes at her, as he crept towards the hated corner. But she would not allow herself to relent. Justice, in the form of the deeply offended Briggs, had to be propitiated, and Chris had to bear the punishment for his misdeeds.
At the same time, I believe Granny would joyfully have gone into the corner herself, if by so doing she could have spared her darling this wound to his pride, and yet have satisfied her own conscience. I think, indeed, in her sympathy for Chris in his disgrace, she really suffered more than he. It was therefore with relief, and as a welcome diversion that, when the footman came to announce the arrival of visitors, she rose to go to the drawing-room.