"It's all a lie I've been giving you, old man! Bright never hit me a
lick!"

"But the mark!" almost shrieked the parson.

"I done it myself," explained "Dodd," laconically, "to give you and the
old woman a stand off with!"

It was just as "Dodd" said this that Mr. Bright opened the door and
entered the room. "Dodd" was seated near one corner, and his father,
having just heard from the boy's own lips a full confession of his
wholesale lying, began raving like a maniac. He swung his arms wildly,
weeping and shouting as he strode about the room:

"My son! my son! Would to God that you had filled an early grave, or
that I had died for thee! O, my son! my son!" and uttering such
lamentations he continued to rave.

"Why, what is this?" exclaimed Mr. Bright, rather at a loss to know
just what to say or do.

"O professor," almost yelled the parson, "my boy has lied to me! lied
to me!! lied to me!!!" and again he paced the room and tore his hair.

Coming around again to where Mr. Bright stood, he went on: "He told me
that you struck him with a club, and showed me a mark on his head where
he said you had hit him, and then, when I sent for you, and he saw you
coming, he confessed that it was all a lie! a lie!! a lie!!! O, my
God, my boy! my lost, my ruined boy! A liar!" he shrieked again. "In
hell they shall lift up their eyes in torm--"