Bab sidled up to him. He sat at the table looking so kindly at her, and she stood by him, her elbow on it, and with her pretty modest eyes fixed on him. "But it doesn't seem quite as if he did that, does it?" she asked; "he took the book away to make it well. If he had left it with me, everybody would have believed I did it, and he knew that quite well."
a helping hand. ([p. 345]).
"No, he had not laid a plot, but at the moment he put the blame on you."
"That was because he is such a coward. Pray, he couldn't help it; he was too frightened. You were too frightened, weren't you, Robert? You are such a coward!" Bab said plainly.
Robert, still crying, she made his excuses.
"And I am very sorry. I'd quite forgotten; but I did it too."
Mr. Beresford smiled.