"I'm afraid I can't, Hope," Gerald answered, shaking his head. "I'll do anything else for you, but—" "But I don't want you to do anything else! You said a moment ago you'd oblige me!" "So I would in any way but this. You know I've been forbidden to go to the clay pits!" "But you went there fishing with me once, and your father never found it out!" "No; but Angel did," Gerald replied; then flushed hotly, and would have liked to be able to recall his words when he saw the look of intense scorn on his companion's face. "Angel! And are you afraid of your sister?" Reginald asked, with a sneer. "Not at all, not at all! That's not very likely! The fact is, father's in London now, and I promised him I'd spend my evenings at home till he returned. I'm afraid I can't go with you to-night, any way. I'm really very sorry, but you see how it is, don't you?" "I hear what you say, but I don't see any reason why you should scruple to go fishing with me this evening if you choose, and I believe it's simply that you won't go. After all I've done for you, it's too bad for you to be so disobliging. Come, Willis, think better of it. If I hadn't lent you that half-sovereign the day of the cricket match, you'd have been in a pretty bad plight; I stood your friend then. Really, how you can be so ungrateful, I cannot think. Well, will you go with me to the clay pits, or will you not?" "I really can't. I'm very sorry, but—" "Then as soon as your father returns from London I shall call upon him and tell him what a fine son he's got, one who makes bets when he knows he can't pay them if he loses, and—" "Oh, pray don't go on like that!" Gerald cried distressfully. "Oh, surely you won't think of telling father about the bets? You've been so kind to me that I can't think you mean it!" "You'll soon see if I do or not—unless you pay me what you owe me." "You know I can't do that! Oh, what shall I do?" And the poor boy looked on the brink of tears. "Don't be so foolish!" the other exclaimed impatiently. "I declare, you're almost blubbering! Come, say you'll go to the clay pits fishing with me, and let's be friends." Thus pressed, Gerald at last gave way; and Reginald Hope, having gained his point, was satisfied, and left the younger boy to his thoughts, which were very unhappy ones. "I say, what's wrong?" The voice was Gilbert Mickle's. Gerald turned with a start and faced the lame boy, who was regarding him with a kindliness of expression in his eyes which made him answer impulsively— "Everything's wrong! I'm utterly miserable!" "I'm sorry," Gilbert said, looking as though he meant it. "Can I help you? Mr. Willis is away, I know, so you can't go to him!" "No one can help me," Gerald declared, his face so full of unhappiness that the other's heart was touched with compassion; "it would be no good if father was at home, because I couldn't tell him what's bothering me."