Mrs. Cameron uttered a shriek, and almost fell upon the little girl, but Helen very gently held her back.
“One minute,” she said. “Firefly, what do you know?”
“I’m not going to tell you, Helen.” The child’s lips quivered, but her eyes looked up bravely.
“Why so? Please, Aunt Maria, let me speak to her. Why won’t you tell what you know, dear Fly?”
“Because I promised. There, I won’t say a word more about it. I do know, and I won’t tell; no, I won’t ever, ever tell. You can punish me, of course, Aunt Maria.”
“So I will, Miss. Take that slap for your impertinence. Oh! if you were my child, should not I give you a whipping. You know what has happened to my poor dear little dog, and you refuse to tell. But you shall tell—you wicked cruel little thing—you shall, you must!”
“Shall I take Firefly away and question her?” asked Helen. “Please, Aunt Maria, don’t be too stern with her. She is a timid little thing; she is not accustomed to people blaming her. She has some reason for this, but she will explain everything to her sister Nell, won’t you, darling?”
The child’s lips were trembling, and her eyes filling with tears.
“There’s no use in my going away with you, Helen,” she replied, steadily. “I am willing Aunt Maria should punish me, but I can’t tell because I’m a Maybright. It would be telling a lie to say what I know. I don’t mind your punishing me rather badly, Aunt Maria.”
“Oh, you don’t, don’t you?” said Aunt Maria. “Listen; was not that the sound of wheels?”