Have a little friendly and serious conversation with him, and to
bid him good night.
He accordingly went out before Forester came in. He spent the
afternoon in a miserable state of mind. He could not divest himself of
the feeling of anxiety, that in some way or other, Forester had found
out his transgression. He rather wondered, that, if it were true that
Forester had found it out, he had not said something to him directly
about it, - but then he knew it was Forester's way not always to make
known, at once, all that he knew in such cases. But then he thought,
again, that Forester _could_ not know any thing about it. There
was no way for him to have known it. He was away all the morning, and
did not come home until after Marco got back. So he concluded that
Forester did not know; but he began to wish that he did. He could not
bear to think of telling him, but he wished that he knew. The burden
of such a secret became intolerable to him. He strolled about the
yards and garden, not knowing what to do with himself, and growing all
the time more and more anxious and unhappy. He was in a very serious
dilemma.
Marco cast his eyes occasionally toward the office, expecting to see
Forester come out. He thought Forester would want to know whether he
went a-fishing or not. But he did not come. Marco spent some time in
the garden with James, who was at work there raking over the ground,
and gathering in such things as might be hurt by any sudden frost.
Marco worked with him for some time, and endeavored to converse with
him, but he did not find him very communicative, and at last he went
into the house and sat on the sofa in the parlor, reading, until
supper time.
Marco fully expected that Forester would ask him at supper time
whether he had been a-fishing or not; but he said nothing about it.
Forester told his father and mother about their plan for a boat, and
gave them a full account of their visit to the mill. His mother seemed
quite interested in the account, and told Marco, that, after he got
his crew well trained, she should hope that he would invite her on an
excursion in the boat.
"Yes," said Marco, "we will. We must have a seat, cousin Forester, for
passengers and visitors, in the stern sheets."
"The stern sheets?" said Forester, "what do you mean by the stern
sheets?"
"Why, it is aft," said Marco, "between the coxswain's place and the
stroke-oarsman."
"You'll have to show us," said his aunt, "when we come to see the
boat."
This kind of conversation somewhat relieved Marco's mind, - but still
he was ill at ease, and he determined to tell Forester the whole story
at bedtime, if he could only summon up courage to begin.
Chapter VIII.
A Confession.
In the room where Marco slept, there was a large, stuffed arm-chair,
which was commonly called the easy chair; it was one that was seldom
used by the family, except in sickness. It stood in a corner of the
room not far from the head of Marco's bed. Forester used to sit in
this chair while he remained conversing with Marco, when he came up to
take his light.
When Forester had taken his seat in the great chair this evening,
according to his usual custom, he began his conversation by saying.
"Well, Marco, have you been helping James in the garden this
afternoon?"
"Why, no," said Marco, "I did not help him much, - I don't like James
very well."
"Why not?" asked Forester.
"Why, I don't think he is very accommodating," replied Marco.
"What has he done to-day, which is unaccommodating?" asked Forester.
"He would not lend me his knife. I wanted to borrow his knife to cut
me a cane from some apple-tree trimmings, and he would not let me have
it."
"Haven't you got a knife of your own?" asked Forester.
"Yes," said Marco, "but mine won't open."
"Won't open?" repeated Forester. "What's the cause of that?"
"Why, I suppose because the joint is rusty," replied Marco.
"How came it rusty?" asked Forester.
"Why, you see I laid it down one day on a stone, where I was at work
with it, and left it there, and there happened to come a rain in the
night and rusted it. I did not know where it was, and so I didn't find
it for a good many days."
"Then, I presume," said Forester, "that James supposed that you would
leave his knife out in the same way and spoil it."
"No," replied Marco, "that was not the reason."
"You are sure that you asked him for it distinctly, and he refused?"
"Yes," said Marco.
Here there was a moment's pause. Marco thought that his cousin
Forester was considering what should be done to James, for being so
unaccommodating. He did not know but that he would report him to his
father and have him turned away; though Marco did not really wish to
have him turned away.
But Forester said, after reflecting a moment, "That makes me think of
a story I have got here; listen and hear it."
[Illustration: MARCO'S ROOM.]
So Forester took out his pocket-book and opened it, and then appeared
to be turning over the leaves, for a moment, to find a place. Then he
began to read, or to appear to read, as follows:
Once there was a little girl named Anne. She came to her mother one
day, as she was sitting in the parlor, and began to complain bitterly
of her sister Mary.
