Before his mother could speak, Raymond stepped forward and stood in front of the Misses Middleton.
"Look here," said he. "I guess you'd better understand that we Hoyts aren't cowards and we aren't liars. If my brother Arthur broke that bowl, you bet he'd say so!"
"Hush, Ray!" said his mother. "That is not the proper way to speak to ladies. But I think, Miss Middleton, that what Raymond says is the case. If Arthur had done it he would acknowledge it."
"But, Arthur," cried Teddy, whose face expressed her complete mystification, "I thought—I don't understand!"
"Hush up!" said Arthur, between his sobs.
"Suppose we ask Teddy to give an account of what transpired this morning," said Mrs. Hoyt. "Did you find Arthur in the parlor?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hoyt," said Theodora. "I wasn't going to tell this, on Arthur's account, but I suppose I'll have to as long as you ask me. When I went down to wait for Aunt Tom to go to the garden I went to the parlor, and there I met Arthur coming out. He was crying, and he seemed terribly frightened, and was saying, 'Hide it! hide it!' and he ran away. When I went in, there was the bowl on the floor, broken. And then I heard Aunt Tom coming down stairs, and I didn't stop to think, but just picked up the pieces and carried them out under my apron."
"And is that all you know?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hoyt, it is all I know."
No one could doubt the truthfulness of this statement, and the three Misses Middleton rose to go, satisfied, if only for the moment, that their niece was guiltless. They drove off, Theodora occupying the fourth seat in the old barouche, and Mrs. Hoyt was left alone with her boys.