“If he had, he never would have dared make a speech like that,” said the minister to his wife as he came out of the study, looking much happier than when he had gone in.
“I hope you are right; I believe you are right,” replied Mrs. Dunlee, her eyes brimming with tears. “Still, we must wait a while to make sure.”
The next day, Sunday, was not a happy one. The older children knew the exceeding sinfulness of a lie, and it was certain that Jimmy knew it also. Yet what had become of the cake?
“Jimmy, what’s the matter o’ you?” asked wee Lucy, going up to her brother, and putting her little arms around his neck.
“Oh, they just despise me as hard as anything!” he replied.
It broke his heart to be “despised.” He did not know how everybody pitied and longed to help him, or he would not have been so unhappy.
Just before dinner Kyzie happened to go into the pantry. As she was returning to the kitchen she heard a noise at the pantry window, like the rattling of dishes, and, looking that way, saw Jessie, the pretty cow, eating a custard-pie.
The pie was sitting on the window-ledge, within easy reach, and Jessie was helping herself without fork or spoon.
“Come, mamma! come quick!” cried Kyzie.
Mamma came; and Jessie stood still, and finished the pie before her eyes, licking the plate too, as though she would not miss a morsel.