"Oh, that's nothing!" Lionel answered airily. "Grandfather's always glad to have something to be angry about! He's an awful temper! It wasn't much of a lie any way!"
"But it's so wicked to tell lies," Dick objected, "and father says a liar is generally a coward. I don't think you look a coward, somehow!"
Lionel took the latter part of his cousin's sentence as a compliment. There was an appearance of gratification on his face as he replied,—
"I'm not a coward; but what's a fellow to do to get himself out of a scrape? I wouldn't tell a lie to injure anyone; I wouldn't be so mean as that!"
"Of course not!" exclaimed Ruth, who always stood by her brother. "You don't know how nasty grandfather is when he's angry, Dick, or you wouldn't think it wrong to tell him a little fib."
"Yes, I should!" Dick said quickly. "It's always wrong to tell a fib—a fib is the same as a lie!"
"I suppose it is," Ruth allowed; "but let's talk of something else!"
"If it hadn't been for you, Dick, we should have gone down to the beach to-day," Lionel said, gladly changing the conversation at his sister's request; "but grandfather wished us to stay at home to see you. It's fine by the sea; there's always something to amuse one, and—"
"Oh, yes!" Dick broke in eagerly. "I love the sea! I'll tell you what happened to me the other day!" and he gave them a graphic account of his morning on the beach when he had had Nero for a companion, and had fallen into the pool.
The others laughed heartily as they tried to picture the sorry figure he must have cut as he walked up the village street in his wet clothes.