"You will have such a bad opinion of Gerald now," Angel said, with a sigh of deep regret. "I'm afraid you won't like him any more."
"There you are mistaken. I think Gerald is a very lovable sort of boy, but you must not help to spoil him by hiding his faults and failings, because by doing that you are not acting truly yourself. It is often very difficult to be quite true where others are concerned; it is so very easy to blind ourselves to what is blameworthy in those dear to us. Oh, Angel, pray for Gerald. You love him very dearly, I know; but think how weak and powerless your love is compared to the infinite love of Him who died for us all. It is only by His grace, and by His Holy Spirit in our hearts, that we can do aright. Ask Jesus to help and guide you in your dealings with your brother, and He will show you how to act, and what to say."
Angel made no response, for there was a lump in her throat at that moment which prevented her speaking; but Mrs. Mickle's words, so gently and kindly uttered, impressed her greatly, and she was deeply grateful to her for the interest she evinced in Gerald, although she did not realize that it had been an effort to her to speak so plainly as she had done.
Presently Miss Goodwin returned, followed by Sarah, who laid a dainty cloth over the small square table in the centre of the room, upon which she proceeded to place a big blue jar of lovely gloire de dijon roses, and sundry little glass dishes filled with different preserves, which the former had manufactured herself from the fruit grown in her own garden. Then a plum cake was taken out of a cupboard in the sideboard, plates of thin bread and butter were put on either side of the table, Miss Goodwin hovering around, and giving directions all the while.
It would have struck many people that the old lady was making a good deal of fuss about casual visitors; but Mrs. Mickle knew how it delighted her hostess' hospitable heart to have an occasion to use her silver tea service and her best china tea set, so she sat quietly watching her move first one thing and then another on the table, until at last the silver tea urn was brought in, and Sarah declared the meal ready.
Miss Goodwin, with a guest on each side of her, took the top of the table; and in listening to her chatter, Angel forgot her troubles about Gerald for the time, and was amused and interested. Being really hungry, she made an excellent tea, much to Miss Goodwin's gratification, for the kind old soul liked to see that her visitors duly appreciated the good things she was so pleased to put before them.
Soon after the meal was over, Angel said she thought she ought to go, as no doubt her father and uncle had returned home by that time, and they would wonder at her absence. She found an opportunity to whisper, "I will remember all you said," to Mrs. Mickle before she left, and received in return an understanding pressure of the hand and a motherly embrace.
As the little girl slowly pursued her way homewards she pondered over Gerald's disobedience and the lie he had told her, and grew very low and depressed. She was not aware that her brother had ever directly lied to her before, though she knew he had often prevaricated about different matters.
"It would make father very unhappy if he thought Gerald told stories," she reflected, "and I don't think he ought to be troubled now after his having been so ill. I know the doctor told Uncle Edward father must not be worried. I'll speak to Gerald, and see what he has to say before I make up my mind what to do. I wish I knew what was right; I must ask God to show me, as Mrs. Mickle said."
In spite of her desire to shield Gerald all she could, she was very indignant with him for behaving so deceitfully. Her cheeks burnt with shame when she remembered how Gilbert had looked at her last Saturday afternoon, when she had informed him Gerald had gone to the cricket-field. She had failed to understand his surprise and hesitation at the time, but now she could understand it all even the look of embarrassment which had crossed the lame boy's tell-tale countenance when, in speaking of Gerald, she had said, "You don't think he'd tell me a story, do you?" Oh, how humiliated she felt! Of course, Gilbert had known that Gerald had told her a story, but he had not liked to say so. It was shameful of Gerald to have put her in such a position.