"Oh! yes; it's always 'O mama!'" exclaimed Mrs. Ferrier excitedly. "But I have common sense, for all that. And if I'd had the slightest idea how they were going to act, I would have thought out a good story before I came, and stuck to it through thick and thin."
"Why, mamma!" cried the daughter in dismay, "you were sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If you had said anything else, you would have committed perjury."
Mrs. Ferrier looked at her daughter in astonishment not unmingled with alarm. "I didn't swear any such thing," she said, the tide of her eloquence somewhat checked.
"Why, yes, mamma, we all took the oath. When we held up our hands and kissed the book, that was the time."
"I never uttered a word," averred the mother with decision.
"But the clerk said the words for us, mamma, and we held up our hands to denote, I suppose, that we acceded to all he said."
"I heard him mumble over something, I didn't know what it was," said the lady slightingly. "And so somebody else swears for you, like sponsors at a baby's baptism! Well, if he does the swearing, then the perjury is his."
"Good gracious, mamma!" cried Annette, "I hope you haven't been telling any lies!"
Mrs. Ferrier looked at her daughter in dignified reproof. "No, Annette; I'm not in the habit of telling lies, and I haven't told any to-day. And I hope I haven't told any truths about that poor struggling creature, who is, for all the world, like a sheep among wolves. I could never bear to see even a wolf hunted, much less a man."
The three were driving home, Lawrence seated opposite the ladies. While Mrs. Ferrier was talking, he leaned forward, with his arms on his knees, and softly smoothed the fur border of her velvet mantle. He had those little caressing ways when any one pleased him. A faint smile now and then touched his lips at some simple or energetic expression of hers, but his face was so averted that she did not see it, and it would appear that her simplicity did not displease, though it might amuse him a little.