As soon as I woke up I remembered the sweets. I didn't know what to do. If Tom knew I'd taken them, he'd be cross even if I gave the rest back. Perhaps it would be better to keep them and hope he wouldn't notice. But Mary would find them when she made my bed. I looked round for a better hiding place and finally settled on the doll's house I hardly ever played with.
After tea, Mamma opened the sideboard door. I felt a thrill of anticipation. Because my pear drops were smaller, I was sure I'd be allowed more, but Mamma put the bags in front of us and said, "Just two."
I seized two sweets and popped one in my mouth.
Tom was peering into his bag with a puzzled expression. He looked across the table, straight at me. I froze, the pear drop dissolving on my tongue. I could feel myself blushing. But he didn't say anything. Slowly, he put an acid drop in his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.
When we were sent upstairs, Tom followed me into my bedroom and pounced. "It was you, wasn't it, Lou? You've taken some of my sweets."
He was pale with anger, his eyes boring into me.
My heart beat faster, but I stuck my chin out. "No, I haven't."
Tom frowned. "You might as well own up. I know it was you. And it was a rotten thing to do. Didn't I give you a tin whistle just the other day?"
It was an old whistle he didn't want any more, but still, he was right, it was a rotten thing to do even if it was a mistake. And he was bound to find them. "All right. I didn't mean to take them. I thought they were my pear drops." I ran to my dolls' house, and fetched the sweets. "See, they're here. I only ate one..."
Tom snatched the sweets from me and inspected them. He seemed a little mollified, but he said, "What would Aunt Phyllis think of you if she knew, Miss Goody-Goody?"
He still hadn't forgiven me for knowing the eighth commandment yesterday.
"I suppose you're counting on Papa to let you off, as usual. But I shall tell Mamma."
"You sneak!" I launched myself at him, my fists raised, but he dodged me and ran from the room.
***
In the parlour, I stood before Mamma, hanging my head.
"You understand what you've done?"
I studied the pattern on the carpet: dark red and green triangles marching across the floor, converging on the black points of Mamma's shoes, the purple hem of her dress. She sounded more sad than angry.
"Look at me."
Unwillingly, I raised my head.
Mamma's expression was sombre. "You know that you've broken three of the commandments?"
I was puzzled. I knew she thought I'd stolen the sweets, although I'd only meant to take what was mine. But what else had I done?
In search of inspiration, I looked around the room. The pot dogs sitting on the mantelpiece stared back down at me with superior expressions on their faces.
"Thou shalt not steal?" I ventured.
"Yes, and what else?"
I shrugged.
Mamma sighed. "You've also coveted what was not yours."
This wasn't true. I'd much rather have had my pear drops.
"And you have disobeyed me, for I made it quite clear when you were allowed to eat those sweets. 'Honour thy father and mother.'"
I could tell from her tone that this was the worst crime.
I shuffled my feet. "I'm sorry, Mamma."
Her face softened a little. "Well, at least you're showing some remorse. But you know you will have to be punished, Louisa. You are old enough to know better now."
A small worm of anxiety uncurled in my stomach.
She went over to her writing desk, opened the drawer, and took out a thin cane.
Cold fingers ran down my spine. Mamma had never used the cane on me.
"Please, Mamma. I am sorry. I'll never do it again, I promise."
"I am glad to hear you say that, Louisa." She looked at me sorrowfully and shook her head. "I don't want to do this, but you must be taught a lesson. Hold out your hand."
My hand trembled as I held it out to her, keeping my eyes fixed on the lithe thing quivering in her hand.
She raised the cane and brought it swiftly down. My hand flared with sudden heat. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I bit my lip, to stop myself from crying out.
I looked up at Mamma and her face was tight, as if something was hurting her too, but she still raised the cane again.
This stroke stung into the previous one. Instinctively I thrust my hand under my arm to deaden the pain. Through the blur of my tears, I saw Mamma putting the cane away. Furtively, I examined my hand. Two pink weals crossed on my palm.
Mamma took something from her pocket. "I want you to put these in the kitchen range now." Her voice sounded funny, not as firm as usual.
She placed a crumpled paper bag in my uninjured hand. My pear drops.
We went to the kitchen together, and Mamma watched while I threw my treasure on to the flames. Then she took me upstairs and helped me to undress, as I couldn't have managed one-handed.
Once I was ready for bed, Mamma produced a brown bottle and my stomach contracted. Rhubarb and soda. She was assuming I'd eaten all the missing acid drops, not just one, and needed a dose of purgative!
Tom must have eaten the rest. And I was the one being punished. It wasn't fair. But it was no good telling Mamma—she'd believe Tom, not me.