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the worst.
    “Mother, I don’t—”
    “Before we go any further, Louisa,” her aunt said crisply, “I want you to know that this is a very serious matter. We must have the truth. If you lie, you will be severely punished, do you understand?” She ignored the startled look on her sister’s face. “This is a matter of grave importance to your very future.”
    Louisa looked at her aunt with frightened eyes. It wasn’t a lie, her mind struggled to explain. It was only a joke, I only wanted to make him jealous. But she knew her aunt wouldn’t see it that way. I didn’t mean anything, she thought in anguish.
    “
Did
John Benton attempt to arrange an immoral meeting with you?” Agatha Winston demanded bluntly.
    Louisa pressed trembling fingers to her lips, her eyes stark with fright. “No,” she murmured. “No, he—”
    “Don’t
lie
to us, Louisa!”
    Louisa began sobbing. She felt warm tears falling across her cheeks as she sat there, shaking without control, hardly feeling the pressure of her mother’s arm around her back, hardly hearing the frail voice trying to comfort her. Through the blurring prisms of her tears, Louisa saw the shapeless black form of her aunt standing over her. She wanted to tell the truth. She wanted to tell them that she’d only made it up but she was afraid of her aunt, she didn’t want to be punished for lying. She was afraid of being scorned, terror-stricken at the thought of anyone knowing her secret. . . .
    “When did this happen?” Agatha’s voice came breaking down over her like a spray of ice.
    “I don’t know, I d-don’t know!” Louisa sobbed and the widow Harper looked up imploringly at her sister.
    “Please, Agatha,” she begged, “no more. She’s too upset.”
    “We must know the facts.”
    “It’s not important!” Louisa blurted out suddenly,her voice rising brokenly. “It isn’t important, Aunt Agatha!”
    “It is
very
important,” the answer came sternly. “Your honor is the most important thing in your life.”
    “But I didn’t—” Fear broke off Louisa’s words again and she slumped over, shoulders trembling helplessly.
    “No, you didn’t tell us immediately,” Agatha interpreted her niece’s unfinished sentence. “You told Robby Coles and he did what he had to do; went up against that . . . that
killer
to defend your honor. You should be grateful that your honor is so highly regarded.”
    “Agatha, please,” begged her sister.
    “Come, Elizabeth.”
    “I’d like to stay with her, Agatha, and . . .”
    She stopped as Agatha’s bony hand closed over her shoulder firmly. Agatha shook her head. “Come,” she said again and Elizabeth was drawn up nervously, one shaking hand patting at Louisa’s soft hair.
    “Darling, don’t fret now,” her mother tried to comfort Louisa. “It isn’t your fault, mother knows that.”
    “Elizabeth,” Agatha said strongly, then looked down at her sobbing niece. “You had better remain in the house the rest of the day,” she said. “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow morning.”
    Louisa raised her tear-streaked face quickly as though to speak. Then she sat staring wordlessly at her aunt. I didn’t
mean
it, her mind implored but she couldn’t speak the words aloud. She was too afraid of her aunt and of the punishment she would get for lying and causing Robby Coles to fight in her defense. In her mind she could almost hear the questions her Aunt Agatha would ask if she confessed. Why did you make up such a story? Why John Benton? Are you trying to say you care for that man?
    No, she couldn’t bear that, she
couldn’t.
She sat silently as the two women moved for the door. Then the door edge had shut off the worried face of her motherand she was alone in the quiet of the room, a sense of impending dread creeping over her.
    I didn’t mean it, I didn’t—she thought again. She’d only told Robby what she did in order to make him jealous. She’d never even dreamed that he’d take it so