"Now I want to know how this happened. Who has dared to unlock my tool chest against my positive orders?"
"Stop, brother," said Mrs. Monroe, firmly, at the same time interposing herself between the carpenter and his nephew. "Ernest is too weak now to talk. When he is better, I will ask him all about it."
"But, Jane, it's a pretty business if I can't lock up my tool chest without the risk of having a lot of careless boys meddling with my things. There's my new adze I saw lying on the floor and covered with blood. I dare say it's spoiled, and—"
"John, you heard the doctor say Ernest must be quiet. If you will talk, come in here."
The boy heard a few loud, angry words from his uncle, and then the door was shut.
"Try to go to sleep," said his mother, bending over him and softly kissing his cheek.
"Yes, ma'am," faltered the boy; "but I do wish Henry would tell his father the truth."
"Would it make you feel easier, to tell me about it, now?"
Ernest sighed. "I did naughty, mother; but I didn't unlock Uncle John's tool chest. I began to play with the tools, though. The new adze was as sharp as a razor, Henry said; and so we tried cutting a hair with it. Henry did it twice, and then it was my turn; but he liked the fun, and wouldn't let me have it; so I tried to snatch it away, and I cut my fingers."
"I'm very sorry, indeed, my dear boy. But did Henry unlock the chest?"