The Reverend Mr. Sanders looked ill at ease.
'Come here,' continued Aunt Annie, holding out her hand toward the velvet sofa.
Prudence Jane moved reluctantly across the room.
'And now,' went on the voice of the accuser, 'she has even deceived her minister, and she has come to make her little confession. Tell Mr. Sanders,' directed Aunt Annie, 'the truth about that wicked fib.'
'Which one?' inquired Prudence Jane meekly.
'You know very well which,' answered her exasperated aunt; 'the last one.'
Prudence Jane lifted her blue eyes from the carpet and looked straight at the unfortunate Mr. Sanders.
'She didn't give any of it to the Piskerpalyan,' she said.
Then she turned and walked discreetly through the portières. She felt that it was no moment to stay and learn what became of little girls who told whoppers.
'Didn't give who what?' she could hear Aunt Annie saying vaguely on the other side of the curtains.