"Are you sure that she refused to lend you her doll?" asked her
mother.
"Yes, mother, I am _sure_ she did," replied Anne.
"Perhaps she is playing with it herself," said her mother.
"No," replied Anne, "she is ironing in the kitchen."
"I think you must be mistaken," said her mother. "Go and ask her
again. Don't tell her I sent you, but ask her yourself, whether she
really meant that she was not willing to lend you her doll."
So Anne ran off to put the question to Mary again; presently she
returned with the same answer. "Mary," she said, "would not lend it to
her."
"I am very sorry to hear it," said her mother, "for now I suppose I
shall have to punish you."
"To punish _her_, you mean," said Anne.
"No," said her mother, "to punish you. I don't suppose _she_ is
to blame."
"Why, mother - how can _I_ be to blame, for her not being willing
to lend me her doll?"
"You _are_, I've no doubt," said her mother. "Mary is a
good-natured, accommodating girl, - always ready to do kindnesses, and
if she has any unwillingness to lend any thing to you, it must be that
you have created it yourself, by some misconduct. So that it will
prove, no doubt, that you are the one to be punished."
Here Anne began to hang her head and look a little ashamed. Her
mother's supposition proved to be correct, for, on inquiring, it
appeared that Mary had lent her doll to Anne a few days before, and
that when she wanted it again, Anne was unwilling to give it to her,
and when Mary insisted on her bringing it to her, she became angry and
threw the doll out the window.
"I never heard that story before, cousin Forester," said Marco. "And I
did not know that you had stories in your pocket-book."
Forester laughed and put up his pocket-book.
"I don't believe there is any story there," said Marco. "You made it
up for me, I verily believe."
"Yes," said Forester, "I did. Don't it fit your case pretty well?"
"Why, I don't know," said Marco. "I don't see why he could not let me
have his knife."
"Suppose _I_ had asked him for his knife; don't you suppose he
would have lent it to me?"
"Yes," said Marco, "I've no doubt he would; he would do any thing for
_you_, of course, because you pay him - or uncle pays him, which
is the same thing."
"I don't think that that is the reason altogether," replied Forester.
"There was the man at the mill to-day, who said that I might take his
boat and do any thing I chose to do with it."
"Yes," said Marco, "I noticed that."
"And perhaps you thought it was very much to his credit that he did
so."
"Yes," said Marco.
"But the fact is," rejoined Forester, "as I think, it was more to
my credit than his; because I have had his boat a great many times
heretofore, and his having so much confidence in me now, shows how I
have acted with his property before. I have always taken a great deal
of pains to use it carefully, to bring it back to its place safely, to
get the water out, if there was any in it, and leave every thing in
order. I have done this, not only because it is just and right that I
should not make him suffer inconvenience on account of his doing me a
favor, but as a matter of policy."
"What do you mean by a matter of policy?" asked Marco.
"Why, regard to my own interest. If I did not do so, I should soon
make people unwilling to lend me their things. And I think there must
be some good reason why James is not willing to lend you his knife."
"Why, he says," answered Marco, "that I don't bring back his things."
"Ah!" rejoined Forester, "that's it. I thought there must be some such
reason as that. You have lost your character with James, and I advise
you to acquire a new one as soon as you can. Besides, you have done
him injustice this evening. You represented him as refusing you his
knife because he was unaccommodating and selfish, whereas it was
only proper regard to the safety of his property. What you said was
calculated to make an unfavorable impression on my mind against him,
and one which would have been unjust."
Marco perceived that it was so, and was silent.
"I am sorry that your knife is rusty," resumed Forester. "Perhaps I
can get it open for you."
"How?" asked Marco.
"Why, I believe the best way is to soak the joint in oil. The oil will
insinuate itself into the joint, and then we can get hold of the blade
with a pair of nippers, or something of the kind, and open it; and
then, by working it to and fro a few times, the rust will work out,
and the knife be as good as it was before. If it is very rusty indeed,
this plan will not answer."
"What must be done in that case?" asked Marco.
"The only way then is to carry it to some kind of smith and get him to
punch out the rivet. Then we can take the blade out entirely. By this
means we can clean it of its rust, and then put it in again with a new
rivet. If you will give me your knife to-morrow, I will try to put it
in order for you again, in one or the other of these ways.
"And now," continued Forester, after a short pause, "it is time for me
to go down, unless you have something which you wish to say."
Although it was not unusual for Forester to close his evening
conversation in this manner, Marco's attention was particularly
arrested by the excellent opportunity which this remark afforded him
to make his confession.
