“Don’t be so selfish about your doll,” answered Albert, rudely. “You shall have it after a while, when I’ve done with it.”
Ellen now felt so vexed that she could not keep from crying. As soon as Albert saw the tears falling over her face, and heard her sob, he became angry, and throwing the doll upon the floor, exclaimed in a harsh voice,—
“There! Take your ugly old doll, if you are so selfish about it!”
As the beautiful figure struck the floor, one of its delicate hands broke off from the wrist. But even a sight of the injury he had done did not soften the heart of Albert, who left the room feeling very angry towards his sister. He was trying to amuse himself in the yard, about half an hour afterwards, when his mother, who had been out, called to him from the door. He went up to her, and she said,—
“Albert, how came the hand of Ellen’s new doll broken? Do you know? I have asked her about it; but the only answer I can get from her is in tears.”
Albert’s eyes fell immediately to the ground, while his face became red.
“I hope you did not break it!” the mother said, pained to see this confusion manifested by her boy.
Now Albert, although of a covetous disposition, never told a lie. He was a truthful boy, and that was much in his favour. To lie is most wicked and despicable. There is no meaner character than a liar.
“Yes, ma’am, I broke it,” he replied, without any equivocation.
“How did you do that, Albert?” asked his mother.