"I—I—don't know," said the boy, drawing his sleeve across his face, which had the effect of covering it with sooty streaks.
An uncontrollable shout of laughter burst from the whole school, which was instantly followed by a silence so awful and profound that a pin might have been heard to fall.
"Martin Rattler, you did that! I know you did; I see the marks on your fingers. Come here, sir! Now tell me, did you do it?"
Martin Rattler never told falsehoods. His old aunt had laboured to impress upon him from infancy that to lie was to commit a sin which is abhorred by God and scorned by man, and her teaching had not been in vain. The child would have suffered any punishment rather than have told a deliberate lie. He looked straight in the master's face, and said, "Yes, sir, I did it."
"Very well, go to your seat, and remain in school during the play-hour."
With a heavy heart Martin obeyed, and soon after the school was dismissed.
"I say, Rattler," whispered Bob Croaker, as he passed, "I'm going to teach your white kitten to swim just now. Won't you come and see it?"
The malicious laugh with which the boy accom-
