What could I say? I could only repeat my denial. I had never hurt the flowers nor touched them, except that I had kissed one of them, as I said.
"And this story you stand to, though Betty saw you with her own eyes trying to spoil the flowers this morning?"
"Yes, I do stand to it!" I answered, driven to desperation by the plot against me, and what seemed the hopelessness of my case. "Betty is a liar and so is Madge, and some time you will find them out."
I think my uncle dared not trust himself to punish me. He knew the infirmity of his own temper. I can feel for him, since I have the same temper myself.
"I cannot have an obstinate liar and rebel in my family!" said he. "Unless you confess and humble yourself, I must send you away."
I saw my aunt whisper something in his ear, but he shook his head, and repeated: "Unless you confess and humble yourself, I must send you away to the convent!"
"You may send me as soon as you please!" I retorted, desperate in my misery and hopelessness, for I could see no way out of my trouble. "I may as well be in one place as another, so long as nobody believes me, or cares about me. I wish I had never come here!"
My aunt put out her hand between me and my uncle, as he started from his seat; but there was no need, for whatever his impulse was, he checked himself in a moment.
"Take this wicked child away, and let her remain by herself till she shall come to a better mind!" said he. "I cannot now trust myself to deal with her."
"You had better read over what you read in your great book the other day about charity!" I retorted, naughty child that I was. "Any how the Holy Virgin and the Saints know that I never touched the flower, and they know who did, too." I saw Betty wince at this. "I will never care for or believe in that book again, for it makes you unkind and wicked."