"You? How could you be so careless? and you knew how I prized them
both. Oh, Primmins!" Primmins began to sob.

"Don't tell fibs, nursey," said a small, shrill voice; and Master Sisty,
coming out of the house as bold as brass, continued rapidly--"don't
scold Primmins, mamma: it was I who pushed out the flower-pot."

"Hush!" said nurse, more frightened than ever, and looking aghast
towards my father, who had very deliberately taken off his hat, and was
regarding the scene with serious eyes wide awake. "Hush! And if he did
break it, ma'am, it was quite an accident; he was standing so, and he
never meant it. Did you, Master Sisty? Speak!" this in a whisper, "or
Pa will be so angry."

"Well," said my mother, "I suppose it was an accident; take care in
future, my child. You are sorry, I see, to have grieved me. There's a
kiss; don't fret."

"No, mamma, you must not kiss me; I don't deserve it. I pushed out the
flower-pot on purpose."

"Ha! and why?" said my father, walking up.

Mrs. Primmins trembled like a leaf.

"For fun!" said I, hanging my head,--"just to see how you'd look, papa;
and that's the truth of it. Now beat me, do beat me!"

My father threw his book fifty yards off, stooped down, and caught me to
his breast. "Boy," he said, "you have done wrong: you shall repair it