"The string breaked of itself, mamma," Morris explained, "and I was afraid to lift it back into the case. I thought Uncle Will would rather we wouldn't bother with it."
"But the banjo is the least part of the mischief, Morris, as you know very well. I never heard of such naughty, naughty boys in all my life." Morris was crying now, and Jack was kicking the side of the sofa very hard with the heels of his boots.
"Why did you go into the girls' room at all, Morris? You know they do not like it."
"I only wanted to show Jack the pigeons on the Jones's roof," sobbed Morris.
"And who was the one to take the bonnets out of the boxes?"
"Neither of us did that, Mrs. Bell," answered Jack.
"So neither of you did that, Jack, and I suppose neither of you burnt all those matches, nor upset the bottles, nor indeed did any of the other very naughty things!"
"No, mamma, we didn't," Morris answered stoutly. Mrs. Bell looked very much surprised.
"Boys," she said, "it is very, very wrong to tell a lie about it; yes, a lie!" for neither Jack or Morris would own up to any misbehaviour beyond the meddling with the banjo.
"You may go now, Jack," Mrs. Bell said at last, "but, remember: I must come in to-morrow and tell your mother, unless you come back before then and confess to your share of this mischief."