"When there come very long words," continued Cecil—"there often are in old books—I'll change them to easy ones, so that Carrots may understand. Now, be quiet all of you, I'm going to begin. 'The Bewitched Tongue, etc.' I'm not going to read all the title again. 'In a beautiful mansion' (that just means a fine house, Carrots) 'surrounded by pleasure grounds of great extent, there lived, many years ago, a young girl named Elizabetha. She was of charming appearance and pleasing manners; her parents loved her devotedly, her brothers and sisters looked upon her with amiable affection, her teachers found her docile and intelligent. Yet Elizabetha constantly found herself, despite their affection, shunned and feared by her best and nearest friends, and absolutely disliked by those who did not know her well enough to feel assured of the real goodness of her heart.
'This sad state of things was all owing to one unfortunate habit. She had a hasty tongue. Whatever thought was uppermost in her mind at the moment, she expressed without reflection; she never remembered the wholesome adage "Think before you speak," or that other excellent saying, "Second thoughts are best."
'Her disposition was far from unamiable or malicious, yet the mischief of which she was the cause was indescribable. Every servant in the household dreaded to hear the sound of her voice, for many had she involved in trouble and disgrace; and as her temper was naturally quick and impetuous, and she never attempted to check her first expressions of provocation, small and even trifling disagreements were by her foolish tongue exaggerated into lasting discord, long after all real cause of offence had passed from her mind.
'"My brother will not forgive me," she confessed one day to her mother, with many tears, "and the quarrel was only that he had broken the vase of flowers that stands on my table. I forgave him—I would rather lose twenty vases than his affection—and yet he will not speak to me, and passes me by with indignant looks."
'"And did you at once express your forgiveness to him, Elizabetha?" said her mother. "When you first discovered the accident, what words escaped you?"
'Elizabetha reflected, and presently her colour rose.
'"I fear, ma'am," she said, "I fear that at the first sight of the broken vase I spoke unguardedly. I exclaimed that without doubt Adolphus had thrown down the ornament on purpose to annoy me, and that I wished so mean-spirited a youth were not my brother. My little sister Celia was beside me at the time—can she have carried to him what I said? I did not really mean that; my words were but the momentary expression of my vexation."
'Her mother gravely shook her head.
'"It is your own doing altogether, Elizabetha," she said, "and you cannot complain that your brother resents so unkind and untrue a charge."
'Elizabetha burst into tears, but the harm was done, and it was some time before Adolphus could forget the pain of her unjust and hasty words.