“And there were very few dishes,” said Jane.
“A whole sinkful,” said Annie, tense with wrath.
“You always are rather late about starting,” said Susan.
“I am not! I was not! I washed the dishes, and swept the kitchen, and blacked the stove, and cleaned the silver.”
“I swept the kitchen,” said Imogen, severely. “Annie, I am surprised at you.”
“And you know I cleaned the silver yesterday,” said Jane.
Annie gave a gasp and looked from one to the other.
“You know you did not sweep the kitchen,” said Imogen.
Annie's father gazed at her severely. “My dear,” he said, “how long must I try to correct you of this habit of making false statements?”
“Dear Annie does not realize that they are false statements, father,” said Jane. Jane was not pretty, but she gave the effect of a long, sweet stanza of some fine poetess. She was very tall and slender and large-eyed, and wore always a serious smile. She was attired in a purple muslin gown, cut V-shaped at the throat, and, as always, a black velvet ribbon with a little gold locket attached. The locket contained a coil of hair. Jane had been engaged to a young minister, now dead three years, and he had given her the locket.