Then Philip, prompted by one of those evil impulses that sometimes assail nobler natures than his, whispered to the General, and very softly too, for no one else heard him, "He's got a match in his blouse pocket, now."
The General, as we know, was a man of quick temper; when Philip's whisper reached his ear he strode forward and thrust his hand in May's blouse pocket, hoping, it is true, that the match would not be there. Alas! it was there, and the General drew it forth and held it up before everybody.
"What do you mean, sir, by refusing to tell me who set the fire when you did it yourself!" thundered the General. "Why didn't you own up like a man!"
May threw an appealing glance at Philip, but that young man did not appear to see it.
"I could have forgiven you your mischief but not your cowardice," said the General.
"Uncle Harold," said May, "I didn't set——"
"Silence, sir," shouted the General. "Don't criminate yourself further by falsehood."