He returned to his room with his heart full of despair, and, shutting the door, pondered what he could do. The idea of paying Reginald Hope had become a secondary consideration now; the awful dread that the money would be found upon him, and that he would be arrested for theft was uppermost in his mind. He looked around the room for some place wherein to conceal the coin, and at last re-tied it up in his pocket-handkerchief, which he thrust behind the damper in the chimney. That done, he drew a breath of relief, and got into bed once more, hoping that the next day he would have an opportunity of putting the money back. If Mrs. Vallance had not startled him by returning to the house when he had not been expecting her, he would not have taken the sovereign, he told himself, trying to quiet his conscience; he had acted impulsively, and if he had had time to consider the matter, it would have been different. Now he was a thief—yes, that was what he had come to be—a common thief! Was it not well that his mother had died rather than she should have lived to be disgraced by her son? That was the thought which appealed to him most, and brought him nearer real repentance than anything else could have done. The following morning, Mrs. Vallance complained that candle-grease had been dropped upon the stair-carpets, and told Polly she was a very careless girl, and that she must learn to be more careful. Polly, of course, declared she was innocent of the offence, and the real culprit slunk off to school, feeling very guilty and mean. The housekeeper had evidently not discovered the loss of the sovereign yet. In the playground, after morning school, Gerald was accosted by Reginald Hope, who clapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and addressed him in friendly tones— "Hulloa, youngster! One would think you were in the depths of trouble, judging by your woe-begone face! What are you looking so gloomy about? Come, cheer up! What's wrong, eh?" "Oh, nothing!" Gerald responded, with palpable untruthfulness. "Nothing!" the other echoed incredulously. "Oh, that's nonsense! What's up? Are you in some scrape or other, or what is it? You needn't let your indebtedness to me weigh upon your mind, you know." "It's awfully good of you to say that!" Gerald exclaimed gratefully. "I shall pay you as soon as ever I can, but, you see—" "Oh, I like to oblige a friend," Reginald interrupted, "and you'll oblige me in return, won't you?" he asked. He was in the habit of making use of the younger boy on occasions, and hitherto Gerald had been satisfied to serve him. "Oh yes!" was the ready response. "Do you want me to run an errand for you, or—" "No, no; nothing of the kind. I want your company this evening. Come with me to the clay pits; several of the fish in my aquarium have died this week, and I must replace them. You always get better luck fishing than I do. You'll come?"