"I picked it up."
"Well, I would not have lost that peach," said he, "for half-a-dozen others. Miss Mabel told me to save half-a-dozen for Mr. Ware, and this was the best of the lot—I shan't have such another beauty this year. Oh, miss."
"But you said I might have all I picked up," answered Amy, clinging to her subterfuge.
"Yes; but I thought this was too firm to fall, watching it as I did too," said he, as he looked in consternation from the tree to the half eaten peach in Amy's hand.
The child was not long in taking advantage of his silence, and ran into the house just in time to take up the French lesson before Mabel returned.
There was a look of indignation not easily mistaken by Amy on her sister's face, when she entered the room.
"Oh, Amy," she said, in tones of anger and surprise.
Amy looked up, but said nothing—she was frightened, for she knew that she had been doing wrong.
"I did not think," said Mabel, while an expression of contempt curled her beautiful lip, "I did not think you could be so mean as to screen yourself from blame by a falsehood."
Amy was going to speak, but her sister interrupted her.