being punished for telling the truth, and it began to look as if Dear Mother had
Edward dared not even think the short and ugly word in connection with Dear Mother.
Still, something had happened which obviously could not be explained.
His cold got worse, and his nose ran terribly, especially at meal times. There was a register in the attic up which came an insufficiency of warm air. When he was not in bed he kept the register company.
Twice a day the silence was broken. Twice a day his mother creaked up to the attic and told him to let her know when he was ready to tell the truth. And twice a day he said to her, "I didn't do it, Dear Mother, really and truly I didn't." And saw her turn away, cold and contemptuous. He wondered if all mothers hated sin as much as his did.
One night his throat tickled so that he couldn't help coughing. After a long time he heard a cautious step coming up the attic stair. Presently the door opened and a kind voice spoke in the dark: "It's father, Eddie. Mother is having a meeting with some ladies in the vestry. I've brought you something for your cough."
It was a paste made of sugar and lemon juice. One ate it with a teaspoon. It didn't stop the cough, but it tasted splendid.
