“I’d go straight off to your father and mother and tell them all about it,” answered Bertie, gravely. “I don’t think they _could_ be very angry,—it was so funny, you know, especially about the monkey and his hat. I should say I didn’t want to go back to school any more at Dr. Steele’s, and I expect they’ll let you stop at home with Queenie, and they’ll see you’re not ashamed or afraid. If you hide here, perhaps somebody will find you, and then everybody will think you were afraid. I like people to be strong and of a good courage, and speak the truth always,—” Bertie stopped suddenly. It seemed to him as if he were repeating words he had heard somebody say long ago, and the feeling puzzled him and made him stop short. Phil was standing quite still now, thinking more than he often did. Thoughtlessness was his failing, and he was often and often led away by his high spirits; but he was not in the very least a naturally deceitful boy. Indeed, he had never for a moment considered that there was any deceit or cowardice in hiding away from his parents until it pleased him to show himself. When, however, Bertie had put the idea into his head, he began to see that other people might not view his conduct in quite the same light that he did. It was possible even that there might be some truth in the little boy’s view of the case. “Queenie will be awfully sold if I don’t keep to it,” he remarked, ruefully, for the idea was also very attractive to himself. “She thought it was the best fun in the world.” Bertie said nothing. He was beginning to feel rather shy at having been so ready with his advice to the elder boy—the hero of such an adventure. At last the silence was broken by Phil, who burst out laughing. “After all, youngster, I believe you are right. Perhaps it would be rather mean and shabby to let them have all the bother of trying to hunt me down when I’m here all the time. Mother would be in a fright, perhaps, and father might, too—though it isn’t his way. Perhaps I’d best show myself, and tell the whole tale, as you say. I should not like anybody to think I hid away because I was afraid or ashamed, for I’m not.” And Phil threw back his head and looked for a moment very like his father; so much so that Bertie admired him very much. “Well, that’s settled then,” remarked Phil, after a pause. “I only hope Queenie won’t be in a great way about it. She can be very cross when she is put out, as I daresay you know. I wonder what time it is. My father and mother are never down before nine o’clock at earliest.” “It’s a little past seven,” said Bertie; “I heard the clock strike just now.” “Well, I can’t show myself till I can go to father straight. I must loaf about out of sight somewhere for the next hour or two; but I’m getting jolly hungry, I know.” “Come and have some breakfast with me,” said Bertie, hospitably. “Mrs. Pritchard always gets me mine about half-past seven when I’ve been out—which is most mornings.”