"'Yes,' I said, 'so you shall. Mary, you go and get one of his Uncle Sam's for him.' Then I whispered to her, 'Bring one of yours.'
"So she brought it, and as I shook it out Tommy looked at it very suspiciously. 'Is that a man's?' he says.
"'Yes,' says I, 'it's one of your Uncle Sam's.' So he let me put it on him, and went off to sleep as quiet and contented as could be."
"But do you think it was right?" asked Miss Stanhope in a tone of gentle remonstrance. "It was not the truth you told the child."
"No," acknowledged Mrs. Bronson reluctantly, "but what is a body to do? You have to manage children somehow, and if I hadn't deceived him, there'd have been a regular battle. What would you have done in my place?"
"Anything, I hope, rather than tell an untruth to one child and give a lesson in falsehood and deception to the other. Excuse an old woman's plain speaking, but how can you ever tell that little Mary that lying is a great sin—a sin that must cost the loss of the soul if unrepented of and unforsaken? or how blame her if she, at some future day, puts your lesson in practice to deceive you, perchance in some matter of vital importance to you or herself?"
There was silence in the room for some moments, while Mrs. Bronson sat looking extremely uncomfortable; then she said, with an attempt to speak lightly, "You make a very serious matter of it, Miss Stanhope."
"It is a serious matter," returned Aunt Wealthy, "as I am sure you will acknowledge upon thoughtful consideration. I am sorry to cause you mental disquiet, but 'faithful are the wounds of a friend,' the wise man says."
"That is true, and I dare say you are right. I shall think over what you have been saying," Mrs. Bronson returned, rising to take leave.
"What do you think of it all?" she asked her companion as they left the house.