Ned was staggered, and I wondered what he would find to say. But he was equal to the occasion.
"Aunty," said he, "Fay didn't do that——"
"Don't tell me, child; nobody but a boy would ever have thought of such mischief."
"Very true," said Ned; "it was a boy—two boys—and we two are the ones."
Aunt Mercy turned pale with astonishment. Apparently it had never occurred to her that Ned could do any mischief.
"We sawed out the rounds," he continued, "to make a rope-ladder. But we didn't know the chairs were good for anything, or we wouldn't have touched them. If there's any way we can put them in again, we'll do it. I suppose we can get them all—except a few that the policeman carried off."
Aunt Mercy was still more confounded. "Rope-ladder"—"policeman"—that sounded like robbery and State-prison.
"Go home, Edmund Burton," said she, as soon as she could get her breath. "Go home at once, and take away out of my house this bad boy who has led you into evil ways."
Ned wanted to explain my innocence; but I took myself out of the house with all possible haste, and he soon followed.
"It's of no use," said he. "Aunt Mercy's heavily prejudiced against me."