She was his mother, and thought she knew a great deal more than he did about life; but she blushed as red as a girl at this half-contemptuous question. “Frederick, you know very well what I mean,” she said quickly, “and I hope you will not try to make me sorry that I have appealed to you at all. You may make Innocent more fond of you than will be good for her, poor child, and that can produce nothing but unhappiness. I am not finding fault, I am only warning you. Her I cannot warn, because she so shuts herself up. She is a mystery,” said poor Mrs. Eastwood, shaking her head. “Whip her,” said Frederick, with a little scornful laugh; and he walked off to the library, where Dick was pretending to read, and really teaching Winks, who had been having a _mauvais quart d’heure_, and whose patience was so utterly exhausted that nothing but his regard for the family could have kept him from snapping. Winks made his escape when the door was opened, and rushed to the drawing-room, where nobody was allowed to insult his intellect by tricks. He came and sat up before his mistress on his hind legs, waving his feathery forepaws in expostulation. She understood him, which is consolatory alike to dogs and men. The tears had come into her eyes at the unkind scorn of Frederick’s tone, but this other complaint brought a little laughter and carried off the sharpness. “Yes, Winks, they are wicked boys,” she said, half laughing, half crying. Dick declared after that Winks had been “sneaking,” and I think the dog himself was a little ashamed of having told; but it did the mother good, and set her thinking of her Dick, who was not too bright, nor yet very industrious, but the honestest fellow!--and that thought made her laugh, and healed the little prick in her heart. CHAPTER XVI. INNOCENT’S FIRST ADVENTURE.