"I say, don't worry any more about father's old coat," he said good-naturedly.
"I won't," Freddy answered. "Uncle's forgiven me, and—and I've had it out with father—oh, he feels it dreadfully; and I never shall forget how sorry he looked and all he said!—and we're not going to talk about it any more; but—oh, Edwin, will you ever like me again?"
"Of course I'll like you, Freddy. What nonsense you talk!"
"But you'll never trust me again—you can't. That was a big lie I told you, Edwin!"
"Yes, it was. I knew it at the time, and it made me terribly unhappy—the thought that you could tell an untruth like that."
"I never told such a lie before, and I never will again," Freddy declared earnestly. "It made me miserable, and I couldn't say my prayers or ask to be forgiven."
"But you can now, Freddy?"
Freddy nodded, too overcome for speech. Very sincerely had he repented of the falsehood he had told, whilst the coolness which had sprung up between him and Edwin had been a great trouble to him.
"That's all right then," his cousin said approvingly. "I don't want to preach to you, but there's nothing like being truthful and straight; it's a great thing to be able to rely upon a person's word."
"That's what father says," Freddy rejoined, finding his voice again; "he says if I grow up trustworthy that will please him more than anything. I'm going to try to be that for the future. Are we friends again, Edwin?"