uit of gold, than that a son of mine should dare to tell a
lie.'--Dear Walter, that was true noble courage; and George Washington
grew up with it. Those are beautiful lines of one of our old poets,
George Herbert,--

"`Dare to be true, nothing can need a lie;
The fault that needs it most grows two thereby.'"

She paused. Her nephew kept silent for a time, nervously twisting the
fringe of her little work-table; and then he said very slowly and
sadly,--

"So, auntie, you have found me out. Yes, I've been a beastly coward,
and I'm heartily ashamed of myself."

"Well, dear boy," replied his aunt, "tell me all about it; happily, it
is never too late to mend."

"Yes, dear Aunt Kate, I'll tell you all. Bob Saunders called yesterday
just after luncheon, and asked me to go out for a ride with him, and if
I could give him a mount, for his own horse was laid up with some
outlandish complaint. I didn't like to say `No;' but my own pony,
Punch, was gone to be shod, and Bob had no time to wait. Well, Dick was
just coming out of the yard as I got into it; he was riding Forester and
leading Bessie, to exercise them. `That'll do,' I said. `Here, Dick;
I'll take Forester out and give him a trot, and Mr Saunders can ride
Bessie.' `Please, Master Walter,' says Dick, `your father's very
particular. I don't know what he'll say to me if I let you exercise
Forester.' `Oh, nonsense!' I said. `I'll make that all straight.'
Dick didn't like it; but I wouldn't be denied, so he let us mount, and
begged me to be very careful. `Never fear,' I said; `we'll bring them
both back as cool as cucumbers.' And I meant it, auntie. But somehow
or other our spirits got the better of us; it was such a fine afternoon,
and the horses seemed wild for a gallop; so at last Bob Saunders said,
`What do you say, Walter, to a half-mile race just on to the top of the
common? it'll do them no harm.' Well, I didn't say yes or no; but
somehow or other, off we were in another minute, and, do what I would, I
couldn't keep Forester back. Down the lane we went, and right over the
common like lightning, and, when I was pulling hard to get Forester
round, he went smack through a hedge, and left me on the wrong side of
it. Bob laughed at first, but we soon saw that it was no laughing
matter. He caught Forester directly, for the poor beast had hurt his
foot, and limped along as he walked; and there was an ugly wound in his
chest from a pointed stick in