“But Arthur says you pulled that large bunch in his hand.”
“Arthur knows I didn’t. He knows he pulled them himself, and that I told him he’d better not do it; but he said he’d as much right to the flowers as I had.”
Mr. and Mrs. Mason both looked at Arthur in surprise and displeasure. His countenance showed that he had been guilty of wrongly accusing his brother.
“Is it true that you did pull the flowers, Arthur?” asked his mother.
But Arthur was silent.
“Speak, sir!” said the father sternly. “Did you pull the flowers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then falsely accused your brother of the wrong you had done. That my boy should be guilty of an evil act like this! I could not have believed it. It is a wicked thing to tell a lie to hide a fault, simply; but falsely to accuse another of what we have ourselves done, is still more wicked. Can it be possible that a son of mine has fallen so low? It grieves me to the heart.”
Mr. Mason spoke as he felt. He was deeply grieved. Nothing had occurred for a long time that so hurt him. He loved honesty and truth; but how opposite to both had been the conduct of his boy!
“Go up to your chamber, and stay there until I see you or send for you,” he said; and Arthur retired in shame from the presence of his parents, and the brother he had so meanly attempted to injure. Of course he felt very unhappy. How could he feel otherwise? The rebuking words of his father fell like heavy blows upon his heart, and the pain they occasioned was for a long time severely felt.