Jimmy-boy came in swinging his basket on his arm. It was a remarkably pretty Indian basket; and ever since Aunt Vi had given it to him two weeks ago, it had travelled with him wherever he went.

“Jimmy,” said his mother as the little feet reached the threshold, “Jimmy, I would like to see you in the study.”

The tone was grave; the boy looked up in alarm. Mamma was sure to be “in earnest” when she spoke like this, and wished to see him in the study.

The moment they entered the study she closed the door and turned and looked at him. What was she going to say?

“Jamie, O Jamie! did you carry it off in the basket?”

“Carry what off, mamma?”

“He speaks very innocently, as if it were quite new to him,” thought his mother.

She took the basket from his hand, and measured it with her eye. Yes, it was large enough; it could easily have held the whole loaf. But it was empty now. If Jimmy had carried off the loaf to show to the boys, he had not brought it back.

“My son, where is the cake I baked and frosted this morning?”

“I don’t know! Why, mamma, you didn’t s’pose I took that cake?”

There was a quiver of pain in the young voice. Mrs. Dunlee looked at her child eagerly, as if she would read his very soul.

“Did you take it, Jamie? You said you wanted to show it to Dick Somers; you wished him to see it before it was cut. Now the cake is gone. Did you take it?”

The tone was very gentle, but it moved Jimmy strangely. He hung his head and burst into tears. Was he sorry he had been found out? Or did it grieve him to be suspected wrongfully?

“No, mamma,” said he; “I never did it.”

“Jimmy, I want the truth! Remember your dear Heavenly Father hears what you say.”

Jimmy only sobbed the harder at this.

“If you took the cake, and are sorry for it, I will forgive you.”

“O mamma! did you think I took it?”

“I hope not, my dear. Only we don’t know what has become of it. And you said you wanted Dick Somers to see that we have nice things in California.”

Jimmy writhed in strong excitement.

“Yes, mamma, he’s just the meanest boy! I wish I could tell you how mean he is. When I carried him the”—

Jimmy paused suddenly. There was silence for half a minute while he struggled with himself. It seemed as if he were almost on the point of confession, and something held him back. Was it so? His mother could not be sure, for he would not let her see his face.

“So you carried something to Dick? What was it, Jamie?”

“O mamma, mamma! don’t ask me. I can’t tell. He was so mean about it, mamma!”

About the cake? Mrs. Dunlee wondered. Had Dick teased the little boy by finding fault with it? If so, Jimmy would not like to tell her. A word against his mother, or against anything his mother did, was always very hard for Jimmy to bear.

“What did Dick say or do that was mean, my son? Do not be afraid to tell mamma.”

“Oh, I can’t tell you what he said!”

Jimmy had not looked up at all, and now he hid his face in his hands.

“If he was innocent, why should he do so? Why shouldn’t he look at me?” thought Mrs. Dunlee, her heart aching with grief and pity.

But it was useless urging him. At any allusion to the cake he exclaimed,—

“No, mamma, I never.”

As if, having once said the words, he was determined to go on repeating them over and over. There had always been a strain of obstinacy in Jimmy’s character, as his mother was well aware. She turned sorrowfully away, and left the little boy alone in the study, his face buried deep in his father’s easy-chair.

It was a sad evening for everybody. Even the Prince Imperial ceased to enjoy his string of shells, and became too low-spirited to smile. No one but Kyzie had much hope of Jimmy’s innocence; but Kyzie said,—

“It wasn’t one bit like Jimmy-boy to take the cake in the first place. And then he never would lie about it! Mamma, do think again; couldn’t a thief have slipped into the house ever so softly by the back door?

“It only makes you sigh, mamma; you think it’s so absurd. I know it’s absurd. Somebody took that cake off the shelf, and left the platter, and it seems as if it must be Jimmy. Still, I can’t believe ’twas Jimmy. I almost think ’twas somebody that dropped down through the ‘sky-hole.’”

She meant the window in the roof. Lucy called it the sky-hole.

Mr. Dunlee turned as he was pacing the floor.

“I am almost as unreasonable as Katharine,” said he; “I can’t give it up that Jamie is guilty. I must have a little talk with him myself before I am convinced.”

He went into the study. The poor boy was still crying bitterly. Mr. Dunlee seated himself in the big chair, and took him in his arms.

“Perhaps you thought mamma meant to give you the cake? Was that what you thought? To divide with your little friends?”

Jimmy could not answer.

“If so, that was only a mistake. Perhaps you carried it away, and cut it up in big pieces for the boys? Tell papa all about it.”

“O papa! I can’t tell; but I never touched the cake.”

“Then what did you carry off in your basket?”

“O papa! please don’t ask me,” wailed Jimmy. “’Twas something—something I can’t talk about! I promised not to.”

“My son, this grows more and more mysterious. I can’t urge you to break a promise, though why you should have made one I can’t possibly see. If you promised not to tell about the cake, that was wrong, and”—

Jamie raised his head earnestly. “O papa! don’t you believe me when I speak?”

“My precious child, I do so long to believe you!”

Jimmy slipped down from his father’s knee, and stood upright before him, his eyes shining with a new thought.

“Does God know everything, papa?”

“Certainly, my child.”

“Well, then, when you go to heaven, papa, you just ask God if I haven’t told you the truth,” said Jimmy; and broke down again, and shook with sobs.

Mr. Dunlee caught the little pleader in his arms. He knew no more than before what had become of the cake, but he was sure from that moment that Jimmy had not taken it.

“If he had, he never would have dared make a speech like that,” said the minister to his wife as he came out of the study, looking much happier than when he had gone in.

“I hope you are right; I believe you are[120]
[121] right,” replied Mrs. Dunlee, her eyes brimming with tears. “Still, we must wait a while to make sure.”

The next day, Sunday, was not a happy one. The older children knew the exceeding sinfulness of a lie, and it was certain that Jimmy knew it also. Yet what had become of the cake?

“Jimmy, what’s the matter o’ you?” asked wee Lucy, going up to her brother, and putting her little arms around his neck.

“Oh, they just despise me as hard as anything!” he replied.

It broke his heart to be “despised.” He did not know how everybody pitied and longed to help him, or he would not have been so unhappy.

Just before dinner Kyzie happened to go into the pantry. As she was returning to the kitchen she heard a noise at the pantry window, like the rattling of dishes, and, looking that way, saw Jessie, the pretty cow, eating a custard-pie.

The pie was sitting on the window-ledge, within easy reach, and Jessie was helping herself without fork or spoon.

“Come, mamma! come quick!” cried Kyzie.

Mamma came; and Jessie stood still, and finished the pie before her eyes, licking the plate too, as though she would not miss a morsel.

“Did you ever see such impudence?” said Kyzie, laughing.

But mamma was not listening.

“Jessie ate that cake!” she exclaimed. “Where is John?”

John was surprised to see every one so excited.

“I let the cow out into the back yard yesterday about two minutes,” said he; “but I never thought of her cutting up a caper in the pantry! When I went after her, she was standing close to the pantry window, to be sure, and the screen was out. I put it back; and thinks I, ‘That’s the second time I’ve done it to-day. I’ll fix that screen Monday so it will act better.’”

“Did you see Jessie eating the cake?”

“No, ma’am; she must have swallowed it pretty spry, for I never saw a crumb of it.”

“O Jessie, Jessie! we never knew you were a thief!” said Edith, hugging the pretty animal whose “sweet tooth” had caused all this trouble.

Mrs. Dunlee had no time or thought for the cow. She was watching the happy smiles on Jimmy’s face.

“My precious, innocent boy!” said she, holding him close, as if she could never let him go.

“You made a mistake when you said the cake couldn’t have gone without hands; didn’t you, mamma?” said Kyzie, trying to laugh; but somehow the tears would come first.

“Mamma,” whispered Jimmy-boy,—and a lighter-hearted boy you never saw,—“mamma, put your ear down close; I want to say something. I knew all the time I didn’t do it, and I knew God knew I didn’t do it.”

“Yes, dear; that is so.”

“And I knew God would tell you and papa all about it when you got to heaven, mamma; but, oh, I didn’t want to wait!”

“No, you dear, suffering child,” replied his mother. “And, thank God, we didn’t any of us have to wait! We’re so glad to know it all now!”

And then she kissed Jimmy on his mouth and hair and eyes; and the children all gathered around, and Kyzie said,—

“Isn’t this a beautiful Sunday? I’d rather have it than a diamond ring.”

It was not till Tuesday that they learned what Jimmy had carried off in the basket; and then Mr. Somers, Dick’s father, told it, laughing, to Mr. Dunlee. It was horned toads.

Little Dick had declared that they had eyes in the backs of their heads. Jimmy and Gilbert disputed this, and told him to look for himself.

“I won’t look,” said Dick. “Guess I know! I’ll leave it to my papa if I don’t know!”

The more he was laughed at, the more he insisted, saying at last,—

“I’ll give you five cents, Jimmy Dunlee, for every toad you’ll find that hasn’t got eyes back of his head! Bring ’em along, sir, and let my papa see ’em, and I’ll give you fi—ive cents apiece!”

So Jimmy, expecting to make a small fortune, had roamed far and wide, and collected five toads; for he could not spare his tame ones. But when he took them to Major Irwin’s, Dick only said,—

“What you s’pose I want o’ those toads?”

Jimmy was angry.

“You told me to bring ’em! Look at ’em now; look this minute! You said they had eyes back o’ their heads!”

Dick was laughed at by the whole family, and made to confess that these were the first horned toads he had ever seen. His father called him “a little braggart;” and for once in his life the boy was ashamed, and ran crying down cellar to hide.

Jimmy threw back his shoulders proudly. It was a great triumph to have humbled Dick Somers! And then, besides that, to have earned twenty-five cents!

But when he modestly asked for his money, what did those people all do but fall to laughing again?

And the wider his honest brown eyes opened with surprise, the harder they all laughed!

Jimmy could not see anything funny in the affair; he only saw that he had been cheated and imposed upon. As he turned indignantly on his heel, Hatty Irwin, Gilbert’s sister, said in a low tone,—

“The little toad-merchant is going home to see if his mamma will buy his toads.”

Hatty did not expect to be overheard; but Jimmy caught the words, and was cut to the heart. He shouted wildly,—

“I shall not tell my mamma! I shall not tell any single body at my house, so there!”

And all the while he was running away from these cruel people as fast as he could go.

If he had not made this sudden, impulsive promise to Hatty, all might have been different. For then he would have related his woes to his own family; mamma would have pitied and soothed him; and, better than all, there would have been no mystery as to what was carried off in the basket.

Instead of that,—but you know the story, and can fancy how poor Jimmy-boy suffered.

Dick Somers went home that very week; and Mrs. Dunlee said to her husband,—

“I am really glad for Jimmy’s sake. I am sure Jimmy has not been made very happy by the little boy from New York.”