"TIM, there's a letter from your father by this evening's post," said Mr. Shuttleworth, opening his nephew's bedroom door, "and it contains news which will interest you. Why, dear me, what's amiss?" he inquired, as Tim rose hastily from his knees by the bedside and turned his tear-stained face towards him.
Receiving no response, Mr. Shuttleworth entered the room, and, seating himself on a chair by the window, surveyed the little boy through his spectacles, his expression one of deep concern.
"You are not home-sick?" he asked dubiously. Then, as Tim shook his head, he continued: "That's well. Cannot you tell me what troubles you? Perhaps I can help you."
Tim hesitated. His uncle's voice was very kind, and the near-sighted eyes which met his were full of sympathy. A great longing possessed Tim to confide in some one, and, obeying the impulse of the moment, he opened his heart to his uncle, and told him how he had killed Kitty's rabbit and subsequently denied having overturned the hutch, how he had tried to make amends, and how Kitty's humble request for forgiveness for her suspicion of him and her assurance that she knew he would not tell a lie for the world had made him feel the falsity and cowardice of his past conduct. Mr. Shuttleworth listened without remark until his nephew had finished his confession; then he said:
"It seems to me, Tim, there's only one course to be taken—to make a clean breast of everything to the people next door."
"I should like them to know, but I can't tell them—I can't!" cried Tim in great distress. "Think what a bad opinion they'll have of me, and they've all been so kind. I never meant to kill the rabbit, Uncle John; I didn't know what was in the box."
"It was a spiteful trick anyway, Tim, and I don't wonder you were ashamed afterwards when your temper had cooled down; but I don't comprehend why, instead of owning to the truth, you were led to tell a lie."
"It was because I was afraid the Glanvilles wouldn't have anything to do with me if they knew what I'd done, and I did so want to be friendly with them, Uncle John."
Mr. Shuttleworth was puzzled. He found himself incapable of entering into the workings of his nephew's mind; but he saw he was very conscience-stricken, and in great trouble, and longed to comfort him. "I wish I could set matters on a right footing for you, Tim," he said thoughtfully. "Would you like me to repeat to the Glanvilles all you have imparted to me to-night?"
"Oh, Uncle John, if you only would I should be so glad! I expect they will all despise me, but I can't have Kitty asking me to forgive her, when—Oh, I don't think I ever before told such a big lie as the one I told her, and it's worried me ever since."