My uncle made a sign to Betty, who was standing by. To my utter amazement, she declared that she and her grandmother had just stopped me from destroying the flowers in the morning, and that watching me afterward, from the chamber window, she had seen me carry something to my garden and stamp it into the earth. She had not thought much about it till she heard the flowers were missing, and then looking where she had seen me at work, she found one of the flowers. What could I say? I could only repeat my denial. I had never hurt the flowers nor touched them, except that I had kissed one of them, as I said. "And this story you stand to, though Betty saw you with her own eyes trying to spoil the flowers this morning?" "Yes, I do stand to it!" I answered, driven to desperation by the plot against me, and what seemed the hopelessness of my case. "Betty is a liar and so is Madge, and some time you will find them out." I think my uncle dared not trust himself to punish me. He knew the infirmity of his own temper. I can feel for him, since I have the same temper myself. "I cannot have an obstinate liar and rebel in my family!" said he. "Unless you confess and humble yourself, I must send you away." I saw my aunt whisper something in his ear, but he shook his head, and repeated: "Unless you confess and humble yourself, I must send you away to the convent!" "You may send me as soon as you please!" I retorted, desperate in my misery and hopelessness, for I could see no way out of my trouble. "I may as well be in one place as another, so long as nobody believes me, or cares about me. I wish I had never come here!" My aunt put out her hand between me and my uncle, as he started from his seat; but there was no need, for whatever his impulse was, he checked himself in a moment. "Take this wicked child away, and let her remain by herself till she shall come to a better mind!" said he. "I cannot now trust myself to deal with her." "You had better read over what you read in your great book the other day about charity!" I retorted, naughty child that I was. "Any how the Holy Virgin and the Saints know that I never touched the flower, and they know who did, too." I saw Betty wince at this. "I will never care for or believe in that book again, for it makes you unkind and wicked." I did not see the effect of my bold words, for my aunt hurried me away. She took me, not to my own bed-closet, but to a room in the front of the house, next her own, which we children always called the Apostles' room, because it had figures of the apostles wrought on the hangings. Here she left me, turning the key upon me, but presently came back with Sambo carrying a truckle bed, and whatever I needed for the night. My wild anger had subsided into sullen grief by that time, and I never spoke. I was left alone till supper-time, when Betty came up, bringing me a basin of milk and a slice of brown bread.