How true this was, Cecil soon began to find out from his own experience. It was a struggle to take his place beside the schoolboys, instead of with the choir, at the catechizing; it cost him something to open his lips when first his father seemed to address a question to him, but after the first effort it was not half so hard as he had thought it would be. He answered thoughtfully and well, and, without putting himself unduly forward, showed that he was paying attention, and was really anxious to understand and to learn. Jessie ran up to him in the churchyard after service. 'Oh, Cecil, I am so glad you came! I thought you would have gone to Bar-end with Mr. Yorke. Are you coming home now?' 'No, I am going back to his place; he said I might amuse myself with his books till he came in. I haven't had dinner yet,' and Cecil felt a momentary importance in saying it. 'How hungry you must be!' rejoined Jessie innocently. 'Are you going, Cecil? I shall wait for father.' 'Here he is!' said Frances, who was waiting also. Cecil felt an impulse to rush away instantly, but was glad he had not, when his father said in a kind voice, 'Are you coming with us, Cecil?' Though he answered, of course, in the negative, his heart felt lighter for that kind tone and those few casual words. It was his own sulkiness which had made great part of his misery before, and he could see that plainly now that he was beginning to get the better of it. The rest of the day passed very pleasantly, and Cecil enjoyed his talk with his good-natured friend very much, though nothing more was said on the one subject which absorbed him the most. It was quite bed-time when he went home, so he had no opportunity of putting in practice that night the good resolutions which were springing up within him; but the next day all the brothers and sisters remarked how much more amiable he was, and little Jessie's intense belief in his goodness revived in full force. He was not so merry as usual: it was impossible he should be after his deep disappointment, and with the sense of his father's displeasure resting on him, and the prospect of the day school before him. Both father and mother were touched sometimes when they caught the sad expression of his face; but he was no longer sullen; and if a pettish word escaped him, he seemed to catch himself up quickly before it could be followed by another. 'I can't see the rights of it yet,' he said to Jessie privately, 'nor why I should be so served out for not working, when I _did_ work; but I think there were things--feeling set up, you know, and crowing over other fellows, and all that--which may have brought me in for this in a kind of way.'