"You insulting boy! I'll tell mamma of you," retorted Meta, beginning to cry.
"Ha! ha! I wish you would! tell her my remarks about the key, and she'll soon make you explain where it belongs, and how it came into your possession."
At that Meta, deigning no reply, put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried away toward the house.
"There, she's gone to tell mamma," said Harry.
"Not she," said Herbert, "she knows better; she'd only get reproved for telling tales, and be forced to tell all about that key. She's been at some mischief, I haven't a doubt: she's always prying, and meddling with what she's been told not to touch. Mamma says that's her besetting sin."
"And what does she say is yours?" asked Rosie, looking him steadily in the eye.
Herbert colored and turned away.
His mother had told him more than once or twice, that he was quite too much disposed to domineer over, and reprove his younger brother and sisters.
"Well, I don't care!" he muttered to himself, "'tisn't half so mean a fault as Meta's. I'm the oldest, and Harry and the girls ought to be willing to let me tell them of it when they go wrong."
The key, which belonged to a closet in Mr. Lilburn's dressing-room, seemed to burn in Meta's pocket. She was frightened that Herbert and the others had seen it.