"Well, you may go now; and remember, I forgive your part of the blame because you so courageously confessed the truth."
The same evening, Joseph was sitting near his father, talking and laughing, when a ring of the door-bell summoned Mr. Saunders from the room. He came back presently, however, followed by the druggist's clerk, who said at once,—
"That's the boy, sir."
The father frowned, looked again at the bill, "For damages, one pane of cut glass, twenty dollars," and then turning to his son, said,—
"Why can't you learn to confide in your father? Why didn't you tell me what, you had done, Joseph?"
There was no reply.
"Haven't I forbidden you to throw a ball in the street? And now here is a bill of twenty dollars because you didn't obey me!"
"Who says I threw a ball?" Joseph's voice trembled.
"My master says so, and the boy playing with you saw you too."
"Tell the truth, Joseph; did you do it?" Mr. Saunders's voice was so stern the boy began to cry.