"I'm afraid Edgar's word is not to be trusted," Mr. Marsh observed dryly. "I'm exceedingly angry with him, and he ought to be severely punished."
"But not on a Sunday, John. Remember the day. You must forgive him this once, and I'm sure he'll keep his word and never smoke again. Besides, it was quite as naughty of Roger, and it would not be fair to punish one boy without the other. When boys get together they always lead each other into mischief."
"Please forgive me, father," murmured Edgar.
"You should have owned the truth at once," Mr. Marsh told him gravely, "nothing angers me so much as to catch you in a lie. Well—" he looked dubiously from mother to son—"I suppose I must forgive you this time and not punish you, though I'm not certain I'm doing my duty in letting the matter pass so easily. I hope, Janie," he added, pointedly addressing his wife, "that you will give Edgar a good talking to; and remember Roger Trent is never to come here again unless you are at home."
Mrs. Marsh heaved a sigh of intense relief as her husband went away, shutting the door behind him; and then she gave her son the good talking to which she had been advised to administer. She told him never to be tempted to smoke again on any account, for if he did and his father found it out, she knew he would never be dealt with so leniently a second time. "You have heard your father frequently speak of the great objection he has to boys smoking," she said, "so I cannot imagine what made you do it. You are terribly disobedient, Edgar, and so dreadfully untruthful, too. It is not as if you had never been taught the wickedness of telling stories, and I am sure I am always begging you to speak the truth. It makes me very unhappy to think we cannot take your word."
Mrs. Marsh looked so distressed that Edgar, who was really fond of her, felt a sincere pang of regret shoot through his selfish little heart. He recalled how often she had concealed his misdoings from his father—better for him if she had not—and how she had pleaded that he might not be punished to-day, and his glance rested on her with an expression of grateful affection.
"I will try to be more truthful," he said earnestly; "do believe me, mother, I really will."
"That's my own dear, good boy," she responded tenderly, "you'll make mother so happy if you'll only learn to speak the truth. Mind, I cannot interfere between you and your father if he ever discovers you've been smoking again; and, remember, although he's very indulgent and kind to you, he can be very severe at times."
"I'll remember," Edgar replied; "promise you I won't smoke again." His spirits were beginning to rise. He had listened patiently to all his mother had had to say, and he knew she would not revert to it—she was not in the habit of dwelling on unpleasant subjects. But he did not consider it worth while to explain that his cousin had not smoked as well as himself, nor did he confess to the possession of the cigarettes which he had hidden in his room, for he quite intended to throw them away.