Bobby's brown eyes never faltered as he said,—
"I know you 'll thrash me; that 's all right; you ought to, I suppose; I 'd just like to tell you all about it, though, if you don't mind, before you begin!"
"That 's perfectly fair," said his father; "you heard me tell you to say what you could for yourself. I always know one thing, Bobby,—you 'll give me a straight story of what you 've done; you are no fibber!"
Bobby's square little shoulders grew yet squarer. He plunged into his tale at once.
"You see, Papa, it was this way; I had been talking to her about that fellow Dilâl; and she said I talked too much. And so I got cross, and tried to vex her. I pretended to be talking to the puppy, and I said Dilâl was a nigger, and that he was like a scorpion—" Mr. Fane started and Bobby stopped.
