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"You are more provoking than ever this morning." Well, then, I will leave it alone; but remember we should have finished our discussion amicably, if you had not insisted on receiving advice-I mean asking it-respecting your conduct to Gordon; only you don't know how horrible it is to have to come down again after being punished; you remember that row about that stupid joke of mine ?" and Paul's cheek was crimson after an interval of ten years and more, you will despise me as much as Gordon, when I tell you, I longed to run away, to see no more of you for ever."

"Dear Paul!" and Barbara's hand was fast in his again. "I shall only love you more about it than ever! How shamefully you were used. I thought you knew it, and so didn't mind one bit."

"If I had been shamefully used I could not have helped minding, but I wasn't. I think I needn't have been quite so hardly used, no, I don't want to think about it; and if it only made me angry and wretched at the time, it has done me good ever since, at least made me feel for my fellows; and so you see, knowing what it is to face the whole lot again, I am very sorry for Gordon."

"As if he could feel like you!" cried Barbara indig nantly.

Why not? Hasn't he flesh, and blood, and mind ?" "Mind ?" repeated Barbara, contemptuously. "No; at least one only useful to cheat and sneak."

"Come, Barbara, I won't have you deliver such opinions, even if you hold them, which I don't believe. There, just look at the poor little fellow," as Gordon slunk across the hall to the drawing-room; " doesn't your heart belie your words ?"

"A little," owned Barbara.

"I knew it did! Now do go to him, and speak to him kindly; don't pretend to forget all if you can't, but put the case before him. Tell him you are sorry for him; and try to make him sorry for the fault not the punishment, and determine to do better for the future."

"No, Paul, that is beyond me," said Barbara, sadly.

"You might, you—you are so much better." Her voice choked.

"Dear Barbara!"

"Don't be kind to me, I don't deserve it!" struggling to withdraw her hand.

"If we got only our deserts what wretches we

should be."

"Yes; then let me be a wretch, I should be happier so, than being comfortable when I ought not."

Paul moved away slowly, and crossing to the parlour, took up a book, seating himself so as to command a view of the hall.

However Barbara did not enter the drawing-room, nor did Gordon leave it till it was time to get ready for church, and then Barbara went up stairs, followed by Elizabeth and Laura.

It was still raining when the family party, nine in number, Barbara and her father arm in arm, Paul with a sister on either side, started for church. He had hoped by thus reducing the party behind to even numbers, to prevent Gordon's being obliged to form a solitary rearguard; he thought David would let him stick to his side. But he was mistaken. Hargrave, Will and David trudged on merrily side by side in the wet, poor Gordon stealing after them, under an umbrella nearly as big as himself, which his mother had sent down for him.

"This must never be," thought Paul, "why at this rate the boy will run away again to-morrow, and I'm sure one couldn't blame him ;" and fearing the same procession would be formed coming home, after service lingered in the porch till all his family had passed out, and then joined the solitary Gordon, much to the poor boy's dismay.

"You'll get some good fishing after all this rain, Gordon," began his brother at once, not waiting to invent anything wise.

"What?" asked Gordon, stupidly, having expected nothing but a lecture, which he had been determined not to hear.

"You'll get some good fishing after all this rain, Gordon," repeated Paul, good humouredly, very glad

Barbara was not within ear-shot, or he should have felt very like Matilda Howard and "the soup is very hot,

ma'am."

Gordon heard this time, but did not think fit to answer. Really, poor boy, he did not know how.

"I don't think it rained last night," pursued Paul, never having been so put to it for conversation, afraid of hitting upon anything that might call up unpleasant reminiscences.

Still no answer; so Paul desisted for a time, then he resumed, thinking perhaps it was better after all to let his little brother's future changes be considered an open matter,

"You'll have some nice companions at Mr. Brown's." A pause. "And you'll like him too."

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No, that I shan't."

"Why not?" asked Paul, much gratified at his suc

cess.

"Will says he's as bad as Mr. Murdstone."

"Poor Mr. Brown! but you mustn't believe all Will says. He's such a good, kind sort of man-I liked him very much. You know he prepared me for Confirmation." Paul added this with an effort.

"Yes-but I-I. Paul, mamma never will let papa send me away after Easter," and Gordon raised his troubled eyes eagerly to his brother's face.

"I think she will, Gordon-rather, I mean, I think they will both think it best. But you must go with a brave heart, and think how delightful it will be every half year to come home to mamma with a good name and character."

"But I can't go."

"But one can, and must do everything that is right, and no one can doubt that obeying one's parents, and obeying them cheerfully, is the first of duties." Paul found he was lecturing after all, so stopped.

"I will run away again first."

"No," said Paul sternly; "and you must never let such a wicked thought dwell in your mind, however unhappy you may be. You are hardly old enough to know how wicked it is in itself, but I am sure," he

added more kindly, "you will never make dear mother suffer again as she did on Friday; if you had not been found that night you would almost have killed her. But instead of talking even of making her so wretched again, you must try to make up for ever having made her so wretched at all, by doing all you can to make her happy about you, both at home and at school."

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I can't love her if she lets me go."

"Yes you can, and when you are older you will feel it was one of the kindest things she ever did for you, and one that cost her a great deal more pain than even yourself. I know it must cost you a great deal, and seem very dreadful, but we shan't forget you; I'll make the first holiday I can to come over to see you, and you must take care to let me bring home a good report of you to mamma-that you are well and happy."

"I can't be that."

"Not for some little time, I dare say, but your six weeks at Mr. Brown's will be a good break in, and young Storey is going to leave him for Harrow at Easter, so if you do go there you will have one friend."

"Oh, is he?" asked Gordon, his face brightening with hope. "How did you know that ?"

"I walked up from the train last night with Tom Storey and asked him.”

"Why ?"

"Because I thought if you went at the same time it would be a comfort to you."

وو

Gordon made no remark, and they walked on the few remaining steps to the house in silence.

Dinner was rather a dull meal, for Mr. Wynne had found his wife suffering a great deal of pain, and far too unwell to fulfil his cherished hope that she would come down to dinner, so as soon as the meal was over he went up once more to her room.

"How about the boys' Catechism ?" whispered Paul to Barbara, as they were lolling out of the dining

"Yes; perhaps Will and David wouldn't like it, but Gordon and Laura

"Yes. I will hear all, if you think it right and that they will stand it."

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No, I don't know which is right. Only it would keep them out of mischief-give a tone to the afternoon. And it is far too wet for even Will to get out."

'Yes; then I had better take it as a matter of course. Go to the schoolroom and tell them to come," said Barbara, shortly and openly; all but Elizabeth having left the room.

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No," said Paul with a blunt laugh; "don't treat them so; don't put rebellion into their heads, affronting their dignity by ordering them in like hounds. Just say as mamma cannot be down at all to-day, you think she will like them to come and say the catechism to you, and I am sure they will come at once."

"Thank you, Paul," said Barbara earnestly, after a moment's pause, and she left the room at once.

Will was standing idly at the window, watching the drops trickle down the panes; Hargrave reading a book that he dipped out of sight as she entered; David not there, nor Gordon.

"Oh, Will, Paul and I think mamma would not wish the Catechism missed, so, perhaps, you will come to me as she will not be down at all," said Barbara, trying to speak kindly and easily, but feeling awkward and shy enough.

"Õh-very well," answered Will, "I'll come when you've got the others.'

"Don't you think you might as well try to find them for me?" asked Barbara, sorry the next minute that she had seemed to take offence where she felt sure no offence had been intended.

"What a bother. Well, yes, I'll go after them in a minute; or wait a minute, I may just as well go now," and up he started.

"Thank you," said Barbara, graciously.

"What for? grumbling ?" and he coloured a little, but went to the drawing-room.

"Here, Gordon, you must come out, no more sulking,