"Only think," said grandma, shuddering, and looking at Horace, "if Prudy hadn't held on!"

Horace seemed very sad and humble, and was still quite pale.

"It makes you feel mortified, don't it, 'Race?" said Prudy, smiling; "don't you feel as if you could cry?"

At these first words little Prudy had spoken to him since she fell into the water, the boy ran out of the room, and hid in the green chamber, for he never would let any one see him cry.

"O, won't you forgive him?" said Prudy, looking up into Mrs.

Clifford's face; "won't you forgive him, aunt 'Ria? he feels so bad; and he didn't catch a fish, and he didn't mean to,--and--'twas the log that jiggled."

So Horace was forgiven for Prudy's sake.

CHAPTER IX

THE HATCHET STORY

One night the children cl.u.s.tered about their aunt Madge, begging for a story.

"Fairy, you know," said Susy.

"A fairy story?" repeated aunt Madge. "I don't know about that. I told a little boy a fairy story once, and he went right off and whispered to his mother that I was a very wicked lady, for that story wasn't true, not a bit; and if a baby six months old should hear it, he wouldn't believe a word of it!"

"Poh! he was a smart boy," cried Horace.

"So I am afraid to tell fairy stories since that, for I don't like to be called a wicked lady, you know."

"There, now, auntie," said Susy, "don't you s'pose we know they're only play-stories? Just as if we hadn't a speck of sense!"

"Well, let me see," said aunt Madge, covering her eyes with her fingers. "Once upon a time when the moon was full----"

"Full of what?" said Prudy, who was leaning on the arm of her auntie's chair, and peeping up into her face, "full of fairies?"

"When the moon was round, my child," said auntie, stroking the little one's hair. "But wait. I'll tell a story Prudy can understand--wouldn't you, my dears? When I was a little girl----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: AUNT MADGE TELLING A STORY.]

"That's right," cried the children. "O, tell about that."

"Was you about as big as me?" said Prudy, "and was your name _little Madge_?"

"Yes, they called me little Madge sometimes, and sometimes Maggie.

When I was about as old as our Susy, I happened to go into the back-room one day, and saw uncle Edward's hatchet lying on the meat-block. I knew I had no right to touch it, but it came into my head that I would try to break open the clams. The hatchet, instead of cracking the sh.e.l.ls, came down with full force on my foot! I had on thick boots, but it cut through my right boot deep into the bone. O, how I screamed!"

"I should have thought you would, auntie," cried Grace, fairly turning pale. "Did it bring the blood?"

"Yes, indeed! Why, when I went into the kitchen, my footsteps were tracked with little pools of blood, oozing out of my boot. Sister Maria screamed out,--'O, look at Maggie! She's cut her foot with that hatchet!'"

"'No, no, I haven't,' said I, for I was frightened almost to death, and afraid of being punished for disobedience. You see father had forbidden us little ones ever to touch the hatchet."

"Why, you told a right up and down----fib," said Susy, looking shocked.

"A real whopper," said Horace, shaking his head.

"So I did, children, and before my story is done you shall see what misery my sin caused me."

"Did Mr. 'Gustus Allen know about it?" asked little Prudy.

"I guess not," replied aunt Madge, blushing. "He lived ever so far off then."

"O dear," sighed Prudy, "I wish he hadn't gone to the wars. How it made you cry!"

"Hush up, please, can't you, Prudy?" said Susy. "Aunt Madge is telling a story."

"Well, they sent for the doctor in great haste, and then tried to pull off my boot; but my foot was so badly swollen, and bleeding so fast, that it took a great while. I can't tell how long, for I fainted. When the doctor saw the wound they said he looked very sober."

"'So, so, little girl,' said he (that was after I came to myself), 'you thought you'd make me a good job while you were about it. There's no half-way work about you. You are the child that had the tip of a finger clipped off in the corn-sh.e.l.ler, hey?'"

"I was always afraid of Dr. Foster, so I only buried my face in my ap.r.o.n, and cried."

"'She must have brought the hatchet down with a great deal of force,'

said the doctor. 'See, Mrs. Parlin, how deep it went into the bone.'"

"'I fell and hit my foot,' I sobbed out. 'I never _touched_ the hatchet!'"

"I knew well enough that the doctor didn't believe me."

"'So, so,' said he. 'Very well, never mind how 'twas done, but keep your foot still, little one, and we'll talk about the hatchet another time. Mrs. Parlin, if it goes to bleeding again, be sure to send for me.'"

"It was ever so long before I could walk a step. Every time any body spoke of my hurt, I said, 'Why, I was just coming into the house with those clams, and my foot slipped, and I fell and hit me on something.

I don't know whether it was a hatchet or a stick of wood; but I never touched the hatchet!'"

"There, I shouldn't have thought that of _you_, auntie," said Grace.

"Poh!" cried Horace, "they must have known you was a-foolin'; of course they did!"

"Well, every time the doctor came to see me, he laughed and asked me how I cut my foot."

"'Just the same as I did in the first place, you know,' said I. 'I don't know nothing about it, only I never touched the hatchet!'"

"'Well,' he would answer, 'you remember the old saying, A lie well stuck to, is better than the truth wavering.'"

"I didn't know what that meant, but he laughed so that I knew he was making sport of me. I knew n.o.body believed me. The hatchet had been found red with blood, and mother looked, O, so sad! but I had told that falsehood so many times that it did seem as if I hadn't any courage left to tell the truth. It had grown to be very easy to keep saying, I never _touched_ the hatchet.'"

"Makes me think of that play, 'My father's lost his hatchet,'"