'I'm afraid mother won't like it,' said Cecil; but he thought to himself that he should always love her for it; and if he had been a girl instead of a boy, he would have told her so. 'I must go back to study now; but I think you had better wait here, if Mrs. Bardsley will let you,' he continued, after a minute's reflection. 'But what will they think at home? They must have missed me. Cecil, I'd better go;' and she stood up, feeling how dreary the lonely walk back would be, with those tired feet of hers that had run along so merrily when the thought of telling the joyful news had been the only one present to her mind. 'There's father, I do declare, in old Mr. Rawson's gig!' exclaimed Cecil, who was looking out of the window; and sure enough, at this moment, a funny old-fashioned carriage drew up at the door, and Mr. Cunningham got down from it and shook hands with the owner. _He_ was not afraid of the big knocker, but the maid was much longer in answering his rat-tat-tat than Jessie's feeble ring; and only a sense that they were not in their own house, and must not take liberties, restrained the children from opening the door themselves. They could not resist running out into the hall to meet him, thus forestalling any inquiry for them by their immediate appearance. 'Well, Cecil!'--oh, such a different 'well' from the one that had greeted him on his return for the holidays!--then to Jessie: 'And so you are _here_, little madam! Mother is making herself quite unhappy about you.' Before Jessie could answer, he turned to the maid, asking her to request Mr. Bardsley to see him for a minute; and she ushered him into the sitting-room where the children had been, and went off with the message. Then his little daughter got hold of his hand and whispered, 'I didn't mean to vex mother; I thought I could have overtaken Cecil. I am very sorry.' 'Well, I don't think I need tell you not to do such a thing again,' said Mr. Cunningham with a smile, 'for the temptation is not likely to recur. These things don't happen every day; do they, Cecil? My boy, I am sorry for this week of disgrace, and more glad than I can tell you to find it was not deserved.' Cecil looked down, coloured, put his hands in his pockets and took them out again, twisted his eyes in a vain attempt to see the whole extent of the ink spot on his collar, and finally, standing quite upright, and looking straight before him, said in a very modest and yet manly way, 'I am glad you know that I was not really idle, father; but I didn't work so hard as I ought the last week, and I was stuck-up and made too sure of success. I would rather you knew that.'