They arrived home breathless, and then, once again in the old familiar hall, Uncle Samuel said:
“Now you nip up to the nursery, and then they'll never know you've been out at all.”
“Never know?” said Jeremy. “But you said they'd sent for me.”
“Well,” said Uncle Samuel, “that wasn't exactly true. As a matter of fact, they don't know you were there.”
“Oh!” said Jeremy, the corner of his mouth turning down. “Then I've told a lie again!”
“Nonsense!” said Uncle Samuel impatiently. “It wasn't you; it was I.”
“And doesn't it matter your telling lies?” asked Jeremy.
The answer to this difficult question was, happily for Uncle Samuel, interrupted by the arrival of the household, who had careened up Orange Street in a cab.
When Mr. and Mrs. Cole saw Jeremy standing in the hall, his great coat still on and his muffler round his neck, there was a fine scene of wonder and amazement.
Uncle Samuel explained. “It was my fault. I told him you'd forgiven him and sent for him to come, after all. He's in an awful state now that you shouldn't forgive him.”