get rid of our evil natures with our lives." She read the seventh verse of 1 Cor. ix., and then S. Matt. xxiv. 13, "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved."

"And now, my boy, I ought to be going, but I wish you would come down with me."

"Do you, mother ?"

"I do, indeed, you have been a long time alone, and I do not think that solitude is always wholesome food."

"I can't face them."

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'My dear Will, will staying away now make it the least easier to do so to-morrow? Just wash your face, and comb out that wretched hair, and then come down

to me; I came out originally for some wool, so you'll find me in my room. I shall be five minutes, I dare say."

Only just within the five minutes Will came in, Mrs. Wynne went down to the drawing-room without further delay, Will followed her, as a matter of obedience, not pleasure.

"Here, Will," said David, making room for him next him, "just come and read this bit, it's so good." Will slipped in between him and his mother; and if David had any reason for the good squeeze he gave his brother's hand under the table-cover, he never told either Will or any one else what it was.

CHAPTER XIII.

WILL'S REVENGE.

"To err is human, to forgive divine.”

I SAY, Will, what are you hurrying up for? come in a minute," said St. John that night, as Will wished him good night, and was passing on.

Poor Will was trying not to bear malice, but it was hard work to feel quite in charity with one who had led him into such disgrace and misery as he had never known before; so though he stopped and turned into his cousin's room for one minute, somehow or other he sat down without speaking.

"I say, you're stupid and tired, I won't keep you," said St. John, good night, old fellow. You hate me -I'm sorry for it--but I can't help it you know; I can only solemnly aver that, if I could have believed any one could have been so great a snob as to break his word as that old Dobbs has, I'd have pitched him down, I would, indeed. I'd pay him off now,-strew orange-peel on his doorstep, anything to ensure him a fall, if he weren't entirely beneath retaliation. Good night, it would be no good my speaking to the governor, I suppose ?"

"Oh, no, he won't say anything more," said poor Will, looking up and half smiling, "thank you all the

same."

"You're still bearing malice, I know, though," answered St. John, his eyes sparkling with fun.

"Yes, I oughtn't," said Will despairingly, "because as to thinking you led me on, that's only making myself worse than ever; a fellow who is led cannot be worth a straw."

"Never mind, you'll forgive me to-morrow, and I'll try to survive the night, if only to receive yer honor's pardon the morrow," spoke the Irish boy, "so good night and pleasant dreams."

The next morning dawned brightly, Will was up early, why he could scarcely tell; he wanted to say something to his father, though he scarcely knew what, and he was tired of being in bed. He turned out into the garden as soon as he was dressed, and sauntered up and down the gravel walk under the wall, thinking, poor boy, how happy he had been there less than four-and-twenty hours ago. How fond all in any pain or trouble are of doing this; as if as long as we can say, one day ago, one week, one month, one year, "this shadow had not come, I was happy," the full weight of the shadow were not really felt. It is when one year has passed over the beloved estranged or dead that we first realise that we have parted with our old familiar mutual happiness for ever.

Happily Will was far too young and boyish for half of this, and long may it be before in this respect he grows older; one day forwards or backwards, no more, he thought of looking, and then gradually and unconsciously began to feel happy again, nay was even whistling, when he heard a gentle plaintive voice, on the other side of the wall, say, "But, John, my beautiful tulip, where is it gone ?"

"That tulip, why-Andrew!"

Will remembered now, more than once from the landing window last autumn on mild mornings, to have seen Mr. Dobbs wheeling his wife round the garden before breakfast. His heart began rather to smite him for hating him as he did; he listened to hear if he spoke more gently to his wife than he had ever done to him.

"Why, Andrew, where's that tulip I brought your mistress from Chingford the other day ?" asked Mr. Dobbs imperiously.

"Please, sir, it's got broke, sir."

"Broke ?"

"Yes, sir-please, sir, 'twas the young gentlemen next door, and they've trampled down them early firelights too." Poor Andrew could not resist the addition, though he had intended to the last minute to be so generous as to suppress this last trouble.

"Trampled 'em down, last night, eh ?" asked Mr. Dobbs rapidly.

"Oh, no, sir, as long back as last Saturday, when that young Master Wynne come over the wall in that audacious manner.'

"I never knew that, why didn't you tell me

a great mind—” began Mr. Dobbs fiercely.

? I've

"Never mind, John," said the old lady soothingly, "'twas because you gave it me I cared for it, and"But I will tell Mr. Wynne, I—”

"No, no, dear John, I couldn't bear to get that boy into fresh trouble after what you said; I couldn't sleep at first last night for thinking of him, may be his father had never struck him before, and no wonder it nigh broke his heart."

"Why? what?" cried the old gentleman, "he's not of the sort to care for a thrashing; bold, careless fellow, there's a pluck about him I can't help liking. But your tulip's gone, and I can't afford to waste halfa-crown again on a flower."

"Never mind, dear John, the others will soon be coming on now. But just wheel me on to the crocusbed before we come in."

Will heard the grating of the wheels along the gravel-walk, put his fingers into his waistcoat pocket, pulled out one shilling and a penny halfpenny, and then dashed indoors on his way to his mother's room, his face and step full of their old headlong happiness; rushing against Mr. Wynne on his way.

"Will ?" it being almost impossible to conceive that this was the wretched, broken-spirited boy of the preceding evening.

"Yes, sir," said Will, stopping, and crimson in a

moment.

"I want to speak to you a minute."

"Yes, sir."

Will followed his father, very wretched and uncomfortable, to the parlour, wondering how he could have forgotten his misery for a minute even.

"You mistake me, my boy," said his father kindly, "I don't at all wish to see you all day as low and unhappy as last night. It is no sin to be happy again. I am sure the youthful spirit which can fling off trouble ought to be kept as long as possible," and he sighed.

There was a pause. "No," he said, rousing himself, "all I want to say is this,-do not take yesterday's occurrence more to heart than it deserves, but at the same time beware where your headlong temper leads you, and understand clearly that I will not have Mr. Dobbs molested, I am in earnest."

"Yes, sir."

"And now go, and don't let this make your holiday the less happy."

Mr. Wynne held out his hand, Will could not help giving it as hard a squeeze as David had given his the night before.

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Papa," he stammered.

“Well, what ?”

"I don't quite know, only—I—"

"Well, I'm sure I can't know if you don't. Never mind, run off, we shall understand each other without any further explanations; you know I could not have spoken as I have done if your offence had been a lie or any act of disobedience: still, I do wish, Will, it had not been disrespect to so old a man."

So did Will himself, and his face burning, he said so; nevertheless he ran off ten times more really happy