ent or two he
forgot to sob, "I did know, Floss told me."

"Then how _can_ you say you didn't know this was nurse's?" said Mott.

"Oh, I don't know--I didn't know--I can't under'tand," cried Carrots,
relapsing into fresh sobs.

"I wish your mamma were in, that I do," said nurse, looking ready to cry
too; by this time Floss's tears were flowing freely.

"She isn't in, so it's no good wishing she were," said Maurice; "but
papa is," he went on importantly, "and I'll just take Carrots to him and
see what _he'll_ say to all this."

"Oh, no, Master Mott, don't do that, I beg and pray of you," said nurse,
all but wringing her hands in entreaty. "Your papa doesn't understand
about the little ones; do wait till your mamma comes in."

"No, indeed, nurse; it's a thing papa _should_ be told," said Mott, in
his innermost heart half inclined to yield, but working himself up to
imagine he was acting very heroically. And notwithstanding nurse's
distress, and Floss's tears, off he marched his unfortunate little
brother to the study.

"Papa," he said, knocking at the door, "may I come in? There's something
I must speak to you about immediately."

"Come in, then," was the reply. "Well, and what's the matter now? Has
Carrots hurt himself?" asked his father, naturally enough, for his
red-haired little son looked pitiable in the extreme as he crept into
the room after Maurice, frightened, bewildered, and, so far as his
gentle disposition was capable of such a feeling, indignant also, all at
once.

"No," replied Maurice, pushing Carrots forward, "he's not hurt himself;
it's worse than that. Papa," he continued excitedly, "you whipped me
once, when I was a little fellow, for telling a story. I am very sorry
to trouble you, but I think it's right you should know; I am afraid you
will have to punish Carrots more severely than you punished me, for he's
done worse than tell a story." Maurice stopped to take breath, and
looked at his father to see the effect of his words. Carrots had
stopped crying to listen to what Maurice was saying, and there he
stood, staring up with his large brown eyes, two or three tears still
struggling down his cheeks, his face smeared and red and looking very
miserable. Yet he did not seem to be in the least ashamed of himself,
and this somehow provoked Mott and hardened him against him.

"What's he been doing?" said their father, looking at the two boys with
more amusement than anxiety, and then glancing regr