“They must all be punished, of course,” was Grandma’s instant decision. “They have chosen to make little pigs of themselves, and must take the consequences. They shall each have a dose of castor oil before going to bed, and as they cannot possibly be hungry at present, they can go up to the nursery, where Mary will bring them each a bowl of bread and milk, which is all the dinner they require.”
Paul had grown scarlet. Twice he opened his lips to speak, and the little girls held their breaths, but each time he closed them resolutely, and when the four chairs were pushed back from the table, in obedience to Grandma’s mandate, he rose with the rest. His only protest was against the threatened dose.
“I’ll eat bread and milk if I’ve got to,” he compromised, “but I won’t take that nasty castor oil.”
“You will do as you are told,” said Grandma, sternly, and although Paul’s mother looked distressed, she dared not interfere.
“Oh, Paul, you are a brave, splendid boy,” whispered Molly, gratefully, as the five little culprits went solemnly up-stairs together. “We were so afraid you were going to tell.”
Paul shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” he said. “Father says it’s dishonorable to break a promise. I don’t mind bread and milk very much—it’s better than soup with onions in it, anyway—but you don’t suppose she really meant that about the castor oil, do you?”
“I’m afraid she did,” said Dulcie. “Grandma never says things she doesn’t mean. Will you mind it so very much, Paul? It isn’t so awfully bad if you take it in orange juice, and drink it very fast, so you don’t have time to taste.”
Paul made a wry face.
“It’s nasty,” he said. “I never took it but once. That was when I ate green apples, and Mother thought I was going to die. I won’t tell, though, you needn’t be scared, I won’t tell, no matter what happens.”