“Yes,—but before he gets cooled off, he’ll go all over town and tell what a fool I am,” said Clinton, bursting into tears.
“O, no, I think not,” replied his mother; “but, even if he should, every body knows what he is, and his reports will not injure you any, in the end.”
Mr. Davenport soon came in, to make inquiries concerning the affair of which he had just heard. He could hardly credit Mr. Walker’s story, who, to tell the truth, had not troubled himself much to explain the mitigating circumstances in the case. He listened patiently to the boys’ statement, and was very glad to find that the affair was not so bad as had been represented.
“I am very sorry this has happened,” said Mr. Davenport, after they had made their explanations. “If you had told me of this as soon as we heard of the fire, it is probable that Dick might have been arrested; for the officers would have known who they were in pursuit of. Your silence has probably defeated the ends of justice this time.”
“But he seemed to be so lame, that we thought he couldn’t be the fellow,” suggested Whistler.
“Ah, he was too shrewd for you there,” said Mr. Davenport. “You shouldn’t believe all that such a fellow tells you.”
“Well, to tell the truth, uncle,” said Whistler, “I don’t think Clinton is so much to blame as I am. I remember, now, his saying that he was suspicious of Dick, and that a bad promise is better broken than kept; but I rather talked him out of it.”
Whistler had a nice sense of honor, hence this magnanimous confession, which, indeed, was not a mere compliment, but was the truth. Clinton would probably have made the revelation immediately after the fire, had he not been influenced otherwise—slightly it is true—by his cousin. This, however, did not wholly excuse his mistake. He knew more of Dick’s bad character than Whistler did; and, besides, he ought not to have been so easily influenced against his own convictions. This, indeed, had always been one of Clinton’s chief failings,—a disposition to yield too readily to the wishes and arguments of others, when his own better judgment ought to have dictated a different course.
Clinton did not allow his cousin to assume all the blame in the matter, but insisted on bearing his full share. He strongly protested, however, that he thought he was doing right.
“I am a little inclined to doubt that,” replied his father. “It seems to me you could not have given the subject much thought. I suppose you had a sort of general impression that you were doing nothing wrong; but I suspect that you did not turn the matter over in your mind as you ought. But, even if you did, after due consideration, conclude that you had done right, that would not make the action right.”