“_High_boys, dear,” corrected the old lady. “Highboys. Or, to be accurate, one highboy and one desk. A highboy and a lowboy are two very different articles of furniture, as you ought to know by this time. Now, that table out in the hall there is a low--” “You told him all that story,” Doris drove on remorselessly, “when not one single syllable of it was true. _Auntie!_” “My dear,” demanded Miss Gregg, evasion falling from her as she came at last to bay, “would you rather have had me tell one small lie or have Thaxton Vail lose one large life? Circumstantial evidence--his own knife and his absence from the house at just the critical time and all that--and Clive Creede’s rank idiocy in blabbing the very worst things he could have blabbed--all that would have sent Thax to prison without bail to wait his trial. And, ten to one, it would have convicted him. I was thinking of that when my inspiration came. Direct from On High, as I shall always believe. And I spoke up. Then my own niece tries to blame me for saving him! Gratitude is a--” “But, Auntie!” protested the confused Doris. “Surely you could have told the story without taking oath on it. Perjury is a terrible thing. Even to save a life. Oh, _how_ could you?” “I didn’t commit perjury,” stoutly denied Miss Gregg. “I did nothing of the kind. I didn’t take any oath at all. Not one.” “You laid your hands on the Bible,” insisted Doris. “You brought it in from the lectern. And you laid both hands on it when you testified. You said you did it in case your bare word should be doubted. You laid your dear wicked hands on it and--” “On what?” challenged Miss Gregg, sullenly. “On the Elzevir Bible,” replied Doris, with all of youth’s intolerance at such infantile dodging. But to the girl’s surprise the old lady glared indignantly at her. “I did nothing of the sort!” declared Miss Gregg. “Absolutely nothing of the sort. In the first place, I took care not to say I was on oath and not to swear to anything at all. In the second place, the Elzevir Bible is in the bottom drawer of Thax’s desk. I know, because I put it there not half an hour ago.” She crossed to the table and snatched up the muslin-swathed book, this time with no reverence at all. Peeling off the sleazy cover, she disclosed the volume itself to the girl’s wondering eyes. It was a bulky copy of Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary. “Auntie!” babbled the astounded Doris. “I have every respect for Noah Webster,” remarked Miss Gregg. “The world owes him a great debt. But I refuse to believe his excellent dictionary was inspired from Heaven or that I committed perjury when I laid my hands on it in endorsement of the story I told.” “_Auntie!_ I--”