But what should grandma do, after we were all seated, and the eating had begun, but lean over to aunt Kate and say in a low tone: “That is some of Jill’s work; if I don’t get rid of a cat who can open doors, before I am a day older, it will be because I am not smart enough.”
Now, Jill is the cutest cat that was ever born, I do believe; there isn’t a door in grandma’s house that she cannot manage to open almost as well as though she had hands.
I never thought of her blaming the cat; and now the story came out, just as they guessed it had happened, and all the people at our end of the table talked it over.
Even then, I don’t know whether I would have spoken, because Jill is only a cat, you know, and her feelings couldn’t be hurt by bearing blame that didn’t belong to her for a few hours, until I could see grandma alone. But, just as I was thinking that, I heard grandma say: “The fault rests with little John. I charged him a dozen times to keep watch of that cat, and not on any account let her out of the barn to-day; and that is all the good it did! I think I have given John a lesson on obedience that he will remember.”
Now John is the little errand boy; a real nice chubby little fellow, who was very fond of aunt Kate, and who had never tasted wedding cake, and he was to drive one of the carriages to the depot that very day, to see the bridal party off.
It all came over me like a flash—how grandma would forbid his coming in to the wedding supper, and how she would not let him drive to the depot, but would send him to bed; and I felt just as though I should choke!
Even then, it didn’t seem to me that I could speak out then and there; and I don’t believe I could have done it, but for the verse.
Girls, I know you don’t see how the verse is coming in, and I can’t explain myself how it seemed to fit; there was certainly nothing about “confessing” Jesus in my telling of what I had done. And yet, you see, I knew I ought to tell, and I know it is what Jesus would do in my place, and it would be showing that I wanted to copy him, and—well, anyhow, it seemed to fit exactly, though I can’t explain it. And I spoke right out, loud and fast: “Grandmother, it wasn’t the cat; John didn’t let the cat out; it was I did it.”