In another moment his father entered.
"Now, you thoroughly deserve a good whipping, Archie," he said. "You might have burned the house down, and if you were a poor boy you'd have been put into prison for this. But your mother has been pleading for you, and, if you'll say you are sorry, and beg her pardon for burning her hearthrug, I'll let you off just this time."
Well, he was not going to be killed, but he was going to be whipped. Archie felt his heart beating small and fast with apprehension; but he was not sorry, and did not intend to say he was.
"Well?" said his father.
"I'm not sorry," said Archie.
"I'll give you one more chance," said his father, moving towards a cupboard above one of the bookcases.
"I'm not sorry," said Archie again.
His father opened the cupboard.
"Lock the door," he said.
But, before he could lock it, it was opened from without, and his mother entered. His father had already a cane in his hand, and he turned round as she came in. She looked at him and then at Miss Schwarz's medicine-bottle on the table.
"Go away, Marion," he said. "I'm going to give the boy a lesson."
She pointed at the bottle.
"You had better learn yours first," she said.
"Never mind that. Archie says he's not sorry. It is my duty to teach him."
Suddenly Archie felt tremendously interested. He had no idea what all this was about, or what his father's lesson was, but he felt he was in the presence of some drama apart from his own. It was with a sense of the interruption of this that he saw his mother turn to him.
