CHAPTER VIII.
A Confession.
In the room where Marco slept, there was a large, stuffed arm-chair, which was commonly called the easy chair; it was one that was seldom used by the family, except in sickness.

It stood in a corner of the room not far from the head of Marco's bed.

Forester used to sit in this chair while he remained conversing with Marco, when he came up to take his light.
When Forester had taken his seat in the great chair this evening, according to his usual custom, he began his conversation by saying.
"Well, Marco, have you been helping James in the garden this afternoon ?" "Why, no," said Marco, "I did not help him much,--I don't like James very well." "Why not ?" asked Forester.
"Why, I don't think he is very accommodating," replied Marco.
"What has he done to-day, which is unaccommodating ?" asked Forester.
"He would not lend me his knife.

I wanted to borrow his knife to cut me a cane from some apple-tree trimmings, and he would not let me have it." "Haven't you got a knife of your own ?" asked Forester.
"Yes," said Marco, "but mine won't open." "Won't open ?" repeated Forester.

"What's the cause of that ?" "Why, I suppose because the joint is rusty," replied Marco.
"How came it rusty ?" asked Forester.
"Why, you see I laid it down one day on a stone, where I was at work with it, and left it there, and there happened to come a rain in the night and rusted it.