"But people that talk in that way often go into extremes, and do ridiculous things—unlike all the world. I hope that is not what you mean, David?"
"I don't know, mamma," said the boy gravely. "I will do ridiculous things if He command me"—and again a flicker of a smile that came like a flicker of light passed over his face. "The first thing I thought I had to do was to tell you all; he says his servants must confess him; and to-morrow I will go to my uncles." The smile had faded and he was very grave then.
"And do you know what they will say to you?"
"I suppose I know," he answered slowly.
"Is this a very new thing, David Bartholomew?"
"No, mamma. The finishing of it is new; it has been growing and preparing for a long while."
"Like you!" said his mother discontentedly. "Think and think and say nothing,—and then come out with your mind, when nobody can change it!"
"And it's all because of her!" Judy exclaimed, starting from her silence and her seat together, and pointing to Matilda. "She has made the mischief. David would never have thought of these low ways, if there had not been somebody to put it into his head. That's what you get, aunt Zara, by your works."
"Hush!" said Mrs. Bartholomew sharply. "Matilda has nothing to do with it."
"Hasn't she though?" Judy retorted. "Just ask her. Or ask this boy. Mean little spy! coming into such a house as this to upset it!"