"Is that true?" Mr. Sam demanded again, straightening himself up and fixing a terrible stare on Myra. The girl's face hardened. "Yes, I brought the powder." She pointed to the flask lying in the roadway. "You dare to tell me that you did this deliberately?" "I never did it at all." "Yes, she did!" almost screamed the boy. "She put the powder here; she owns up to it." Myra shrugged her shoulders and turned away. "Very well; he's telling a nasty fib, but you can believe him if you like." "Stop a minute, miss." Mr. Sam strode across to her. "You don't get off in that fashion, I promise you!" She looked up at him sidewise, under lowered brows. "Are you going to beat me?" she asked quietly. The question took Mr. Sam aback. "You deserve a whipping if ever a girl did," he answered, after a second or two. "First, it seems, you almost succeed in killing your cousin, and then you tell a falsehood about it." "I have told you the truth. I put the powder there. As for meaning to kill him, that's nonsense, and he knows it. I didn't even mean to hurt him, though he deserves it." "Deserves it!" echoed Mr. Sam. "Yes, for robbing Clem." "Sam--Sam!" Mrs. Purchase thrust herself between them. "What's the matter? Don't go for to hurt the child!" "What--what does she mean, then?" He had stretched out a hand to grip Myra by the shoulder, but fell back with a yellow face. "Tom Trevarthen told me." Myra pointed from father to son. "He says you're no better than a pair of robbers." "Myra," said her aunt quietly, "go to your room at once. On your own confession you have done wickedly, and must be punished." "Very well, Aunt Hannah." "I must attend to Calvin first; but I will come to you by and by. Until then you are not to leave your room. Do you understand?" "Yes, Aunt Hannah." She turned and walked towards the house. "And now," said Mrs. Purchase, after a glance at Mr. Sam's face, "let's see what bones are broken." She bent over Calvin, but looked up almost immediately, as Mr. Sam uttered a sharp exclamation. "What's this?" he asked, stooping to pick up a briar pipe. Master Calvin blinked, and turned his head aside from Mrs. Purchase's curious gaze. "I think it belongs to Tom Trevarthen," he mumbled. "How on the airth did Tom Trevarthen come to drop a pipe here, and walk off 'ithout troubling to pick it up? If 'twas a hairpin, now," said Mrs. Purchase, not very lucidly, "one could understand it." "I--I'm going to be ill," wailed the wretched Calvin, with a spasmodic heave of the shoulders. "Well," his aunt commented grimly after a moment, "you told the truth that time, anyway." Having conveyed him to the house and put him, with Susannah's help, to bed, Aunt Hannah went off to Myra's room, but descended after a few minutes in search of Mr. Sam, whom she found pacing the garden walk. "Well?" he asked.