“How was it, James?” the mother asked, appealing to the eldest boy.
“He did knock over my house.”
“But, do you believe it was done on purpose?”
“He kept pushing his foot against it all the while, and I told him not to do it,” said James.
“Why, Henry?”
Henry again hung down his head, and was silent.
“And so you did it on purpose, Henry?”
“Oh no, no, mother, I didn’t do it on purpose,” cried Henry, bursting into tears and burying his face in his mother’s lap. “It was an accident. I did put my foot against the house, just to plague him; but I didn’t mean to push it over. Something made my foot go hard against it. But I am sorry.”
And Henry sobbed aloud.
“Henry is sorry for what he has done, James; he did not do it on purpose. But you were angry and struck him on purpose. Are you not sorry?”