This mark was too much for the good parson. He might have doubted
"Dodd's" word, but there was no disputing the mark.
Now a welt raised by a teacher on the body of a child will drive that child's parents to madness quicker than anything that I know of. The elder grew very angry, and resolved to see the end of this as soon as possible. Calling a younger member of the household to him he whispered in his ear:
"Run up to Prof. Bright's as fast as you can, and tell him to come down here as quick as possible." He would bring "Dodd" and his teacher face to face, and then see.
It was this messenger that had brought the teacher to the parsonage on the double-quick.
"Dodd" saw his little brother shoot out of the door, and he was in a worse dilemma than ever. Whether to run, or to stay and face it out; to lie some more, or to confess the lie he had already told; these were the things he grew more and more anxious about every minute. But presently he caught sight of his teacher hurrying down the street, and almost before he knew it he said:
"It's all a lie I've been giving you, old man! Bright never hit me a lick!"
"But the mark!" almost shrieked the parson.
"I done it myself," explained "Dodd," laconically, "to give you and the old woman a stand off with!"
It was just as "Dodd" said this that Mr. Bright opened the door and entered the room. "Dodd" was seated near one corner, and his father, having just heard from the boy's own lips a full confession of his wholesale lying, began raving like a maniac. He swung his arms wildly, weeping and shouting as he strode about the room:
"My son! my son! Would to God that you had filled an early grave, or that I had died for thee! O, my son! my son!" and uttering such lamentations he continued to rave.