Mr. Dickinson colored, as if he was ashamed to remember how angry he had been.
"And, Miss Mary Mackay, I think you had some intention of telling me a story; of making me believe, if Jessie had let you, that you had broken the flower; why was this?"
Mary hung her head and looked very much ashamed, but answered, "I did not mean to tell a story, Mr. Dickinson, I only meant to let you think it was I, because it was better for you to be angry with me than to be angry with Jessie."
"You only meant to let me think it was you;—and have you been so ill taught, young lady, that you do not know that in deceiving me by your looks and manner, you were as guilty of falsehood as if you had spoken it? But why would it have been better for me to be angry with you than with Jessie?"—then, without waiting for an answer, Mr. Dickinson turned to me and asked, "Did I not understand you, ma'am, that Jessie was to know nothing of your plans, that I might see how she would behave when unrestrained by any cautions?"
"I did tell you so," said I, "and was, I assure you, true to my promise."
"Aunt Kitty," said Harriet, "after Jessie had broken the flower, I was so sorry that I told her and Mary all about it."
"All about what?" asked Mr. Dickinson.
"About Aunt Kitty's wanting you to have Mr. Graham for your gardener, sir; and that I thought you would have had him, and have given him that pretty house and garden, and six hundred dollars a year, if Jessie had not hurt any thing."
"Then Jessie knew all this when she told me what she had done?"
"Yes, sir, it was this that made Mary want her to let you think she had done it; but Jessie said she should never feel happy if she did not tell you the truth, and that she was sure her grandmother would rather go away than have her tell a story."