Then don't you think you ought to get up and pray to God for a new heart?"
"Y-yees."
"Get out and pray then!" And Punch would get out of bed with raging hate in his heart against all the world, seen and unseen. He was always tumbling into trouble. Harry had a knack of cross-examining him as to his day's doings which seldom failed to lead him, sleepy and savage, into half-a-dozen contradictions—all duly reported to Aunty next morning.
"But it wasn't a lie," Punch would begin, charging into a laboured explanation that landed him more hopelessly in the mire. "I said that I didn't say my prayers twice over in the day, and that was on Tuesday. Once I did. I know I did, but Harry said I didn't," and so forth, till the tension brought tears, and he was dismissed from the table in disgrace.
"You usen't to be as bad as this?" said Judy, awe-stricken at the catalogue of Black Sheep's crimes. "Why are you so bad now?"
"I don't know," Black Sheep would reply. "I'm not, if I only wasn't bothered upside down. I knew what I did and I want to say so, but Harry always makes it out different somehow, and Aunty Rosa doesn't believe a word I say. Oh Ju, don't you say I'm bad too."
"Aunty Rosa says you are," said Judy. "She told the Vicar so when he came yesterday."
"Why does she tell all the people outside the house about me? It isn't fair," said Black Sheep. "When I was in Bombay, and was bad—doing bad, not made-up bad like this—Mamma told Papa, and Papa told me he knew, and that was all. Outside people didn't know too—even Meeta didn't know."
"I don't remember," said Judy wistfully. "I was all little then. Mamma was just as fond of you us she was of me, wasn't she?"
"'Course she was. So was Papa. So was everybody."
"Aunty Rosa likes me more than she does you. She says
