"I—I have been very unhappy about it," faltered Edgar; and there was no doubt that he spoke the truth, for since the morning he had gone primrose gathering with Polly and Roger his conscience had continually pricked him. "And—and I don't believe Roger will ever forgive me; he said he would never come to the Rookery again, and he's sure to keep his word."
"What explanation shall I give our visitors as to the cause of the disgraceful scene in the road?" asked Mrs. Marsh with a sigh.
"Tell them the truth—don't beat about the bush," advised her husband. "Say Edgar was the one in fault."
"It is most unfortunate this has occurred, for I have asked Polly and Roger to spend the afternoon here to-morrow," she said regretfully. "Are they coming, Edgar?"
"Aunt Mary promised they should come, mother, but I don't suppose they will now."
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Marsh. "I will speak to their father and tell him what has happened, and he will set things right. Roger has a real grievance and has cause to be indignant, but I want him and Edgar to be friends. Your brother is as straight as a line, Janie, and it seems his son is the same. Now go to your visitors, my dear; I have a few words to say to Edgar alone."
It astonished Edgar to see how deeply his conduct had affected Mr. Marsh, who seemed more grieved than angry. That touched the little boy, who was really much attached to the father who had always been so indulgent to him, and he promised that he really would endeavour to act as well as speak truly in the future. When, ten minutes later, he left the study and ran upstairs to his bedroom to prepare for luncheon—which, under the circumstances would be somewhat of an ordeal that day—his eyes were blind with tears, and his father's parting words rang again and again in his ears:
"Be true, my boy, whatever happens be true, and then I shall be able to feel confidence in you. Don't ever again give me occasion to be ashamed of my son."