“If he was innocent, why should he do so? Why shouldn’t he look at me?” thought Mrs. Dunlee, her heart aching with grief and pity.
But it was useless urging him. At any allusion to the cake he exclaimed,—
“No, mamma, I never.”
As if, having once said the words, he was determined to go on repeating them over and over. There had always been a strain of obstinacy in Jimmy’s character, as his mother was well aware. She turned sorrowfully away, and left the little boy alone in the study, his face buried deep in his father’s easy-chair.
It was a sad evening for everybody. Even the Prince Imperial ceased to enjoy his string of shells, and became too low-spirited to smile. No one but Kyzie had much hope of Jimmy’s innocence; but Kyzie said,—
“It wasn’t one bit like Jimmy-boy to take the cake in the first place. And then he never would lie about it! Mamma, do think again; couldn’t a thief have slipped into the house ever so softly by the back door?
“It only makes you sigh, mamma; you think it’s so absurd. I know it’s absurd. Somebody took that cake off the shelf, and left the platter, and it seems as if it must be Jimmy. Still, I can’t believe ’twas Jimmy. I almost think ’twas somebody that dropped down through the ‘sky-hole.’”
She meant the window in the roof. Lucy called it the sky-hole.
Mr. Dunlee turned as he was pacing the floor.