Clarence used to aver that he really did see 'things' in the dark,
but as he only shuddered and sobbed instead of describing them, he
was punished for 'telling fibs,' though the housemaid used to speak
under her breath of his being a 'Sunday child.' And after long
penance, tied to his stool in the corner, he would creep up to me
and whisper, 'But, Eddy, I really did!'
However, it was only too well established in the nursery that
Clarence's veracity was on a par with his courage. When taxed with
any misdemeanour, he used to look round scared and bewildered, and
utter a flat demur. One scene in particular comes before me. There
were strict laws against going into shops or buying dainties without
express permission from mamma or nurse; but one day when Clarence
had by some chance been sent out alone with the good natured
housemaid, his fingers were found sticky.
'Now, Master Clarence, you've been a naughty boy, eating of sweets,'
exclaimed stern Justice in a mob cap and frills.
'No--no--' faltered the victim; but, alas! Mrs. Gooch had only to
thrust her hand into the little pocket of his monkey suit to convict
him on the spot.
The maid was dismissed with a month's wages, and poor Clarence
underwent a strange punishment from my mother, who was getting about
again by that time, namely, a drop of hot sealing-wax on his tongue,
to teach him practically the doom of the false tongue.
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