"I think it was Miss Mary's canary-bird, which got out of the cage, and
is so fond of pigeons, it never can have enough of them." Yes, it WAS
the canary-bird; and Eliza saw it; and Eliza is ready to vow she did.
These statements are not true; but please don't call them lies. This is
not lying; this is voting with your party. You MUST back your own side.
The servants'-hall stands by the servants'-hall against the dining-room.
The schoolboys don't tell tales of each other. They agree not to choose
to know who has made the noise, who has broken the window, who has eaten
up the pigeons, who has picked all the plovers'-eggs out of the aspic,
how it is that liqueur brandy of Gledstane's is in such porous glass
bottles---and so forth. Suppose Brutus had a footman, who came and told
him that the butler drank the Curacoa, which of these servants would you
dismiss?--the butler, perhaps, but the footman certainly.

No. If your plate and glass are beautifully bright, your bell quickly
answered, and Thomas ready, neat, and good-humored, you are not to
expect absolute truth from him. The very obsequiousness and perfection
of his service prevents truth. He may be ever so unwell in mind or body,
and he must go through his service--hand the shining plate, replenish
the spotless glass, lay the glittering fork--never laugh when you
yourself or your guests joke--be profoundly attentive, and yet look
utterly impassive--exchange a few hurried curses at the door with that
unseen slavey who ministers without, and with you be perfectly calm and
polite. If you are ill, he will come twenty times in an hour to your
bell; or leave the girl of his heart--his mother, who is going to
America--his dearest friend, who has come to say farewell--his lunch,
and his glass of beer just freshly poured out--any or all of these, if
the door-bell rings, or the master calls out "THOMAS" from the hall. Do
you suppose you can expect absolute candor from a man whom you may order
to powder his hair? As between the Rev. Henry Holyshade and his pupil,
the idea of entire unreserve is utter bosh; so the truth as between
you and Jeames or Thomas, or Mary the housemaid, or Betty the cook,
is relative, and not to be demanded on one side or the other. Why,
respectful civility is itself a lie, which poor Jeames often has to
utter or perform to many a swaggering vulgarian, who should black
Jeames's boots, did Jeames wear them and not shoes. There is your little
Tom, just ten,