"Then Mrs. Ashton won't ask about it, and I needn't speak," said Bessie.
"Pshaw! you always come back to the same point," said Mary. "None of us need speak, if Mrs. Ashton does not ask us, need we?"
"Yes," said Bessie. "Some one ought to speak now."
"And who'd be so mean, I'd like to know?" said Fanny.
Bessie had a feeling that the meanness lay elsewhere: first, in the deception practised upon the patient and polite old Frenchman; next, in the concealment of the mischief done from Mrs. Ashton. But she did not like to speak out all that was in her mind to these girls who were so much older, and might be supposed to be so much wiser than herself.
"Will you do this for lame Jemmy?" said Kate. "Make haste and tell us! There is no doubt of your gaining the prize for him, if we all promise you our votes, you know."
"You are very wicked and cruel if you do not," said Mary. "How can you ever look the poor fellow in the face again, and remember that you refused to give him a chance of being cured? For, if you will not do this little favour for us, you need not look for the votes from this room."
"We don't ask you to say what is not true," said Kate: "you have only to keep silence, if Mrs. Ashton speaks. There is nothing wrong in that. Indeed, it is only right for you to do so, when you will gain this great help for your lame friend."
Poor Bessie! It was the first time in all her little life that she had been even tempted to do or say what was not true; but this was a sore trial. She had thought so much of lame Jemmy, longed so to earn the prize for his sake; and now she was sure of it, if she would but—what?
Act a lie! or, at least, help to cover a shameful deception! Yes, it was that! She could not hide the truth from her own conscience. Kate told her that it was right; they were all trying to persuade her to do wrong, that good might come of it—trying to make her think that it was really her duty; and, for a moment, it did seem hard to decide what she ought to do.