It was very absurd. I think I did not know clearly what I was saying; but after I had once said it, I supposed it would not do to take it back, but kept repeating it, "No, mamma, I never touched the hatchet."
Mother was grieved to hear me tell such a wrong story, but it was no time to reason with me then, for before my boot could be drawn off I had fainted away. When I came to myself, and saw Dr. Foster was there, it was as much as they could do to keep me on the bed. I was dreadfully afraid of that man. I thought I had deceived mother, but I knew I couldn't deceive him.
"So, so, little girl, you thought you'd make me a good job while you were about it. There's no half-way work about you," said he. And then he laughed in a way that rasped across my feelings like the noise of sharpening a slate pencil, and said I mustn't be allowed to move my foot for days and days.
Every morning when he came, he asked, with that dreadful smile,—
"Let us see: how is it we cut our foot?"
And I answered, blushing with all my might, "Just the same as I did in the first place, you know, sir."
Upon which he would show all his white teeth, and say,—
"Well, stick to it, my dear; you remember the old saying, 'A lie well stuck to is better than the truth wavering.'"
I did not understand that, but I knew he was making fun of me. I understood what Ned meant; for he said flatly, "You've told a bouncer, miss."
I was so glad Gust Allen wasn't in town; he was a worse tease than Ned. When Abner came in to bring me apples or cherries, he always asked,—