"Some people wouldn't admit that, General Seeley, but it's very true," said Mrs. Chester. "I know it is in my case."
"Well, well, can't you talk, Bessie? Aren't you going to tell me you're sorry and that you won't do it again?"
"I'm sorry the birds were frightened," said Bessie, bravely. "But I can't say that I won't do it again—"
"What's that? What's that? Bless me, what's the use of saying you're sorry if you mean to do it the next time you get a chance?"
The general was flushed as he spoke, and his eyes held the same angry look they had worn at first. Mrs. Chester sighed and decided that it was time for her to speak.
"I don't think that was just what Bessie meant, General. I think you didn't understand her—"
"Well, well, perhaps not! What do you mean, Bessie?"
"I mean I can't promise not to do it again, sir, because I didn't do it at all, in the first place. Really, I didn't—"
"Oh, nonsense!" said the general, testily. "I'm ready to overlook it—don't you understand that? All I want you to do is to confess, and to say you're sorry. Nothing's going to happen to you!"
"I can't confess when I didn't do it," pleaded Bessie. "And if I had done it, I'd say so, whether anything was going to happen to me or not. That wouldn't make any difference."