"I--want--some--supper," moaned the little rebel, waking up just as they were laying him on his bed in the pink chamber. His mother and Love watched him with real pleasure, as he devoured cold meat and bread, all they dared let him have, but not half as much as he craved. Then he fell asleep again, and did not wake till noon of the next day. His mother was bending over him with the tenderest love, just as if he had never given her a moment's trouble in his life. That was just like his dear mother, and it was more than Willy could bear; he threw his arms round her neck, and buried his face in her bosom, completely subdued. "O, mother, mother, I'll never do so again." "My darling, I am sure you never will." "Where's father?" "Down stairs in the dining-room, I think." "Well, I'm ready; will you tell him I'm ready," cried Willy, drawing a quick breath. "Ready for what, dear?" "Well, he is going to whip me, I suppose, and I want it over with." "And how do you feel about it, my son? Don't you think you deserve to be whipped?" "Yes'm, I do," replied Willy, with a sudden burst of candor; "I don't see how anybody can help whipping a boy that's acted the way I have." "That's nobly said, my child," exclaimed Mr. Parlin, stepping out of the large clothes-press. "I happened to be in there over-hauling the trunk that has my Freemason clothes in it, and I couldn't but overhear what you've been saying." Willy buried his face in the pillow. He was willing his mother should know his inmost thoughts, but he had always been afraid of his father. "And, Willy, since you take so kindly to the idea of another whipping, I don't know but I shall let you off this time." Willy opened his eyes very wide. "I'll tell you why," went on Mr. Parlin. "You didn't deserve the last whipping you had; so that will go to offset this one, which you do deserve." Willy's eyes sparkled with delight; still there was a look in them of question and surprise. The idea of his ever having a whipping that his father thought he didn't deserve! "You were in a shameful state that night, Willy; I can't call it anything else but _drunk_; but I know now how it happened; there was brandy in the cider." "Brandy, papa?" "Yes. Dr. Potter and I examined the barrel yesterday, and the mixture in it was at least one third brandy." "O, papa, was that why it tasted so bad? I drank one mugful, and didn't like it; and then by and by I drank another mugful; but that was all." "Yes, Willy; so you told me when I talked with you; and I didn't believe you then; but I believe you now." "O, father, I'm so glad!" cried Willy, with a look such as he had never before given his father--a beaming look of gratitude and love. I think he was happier at that moment to know that his father trusted him, than to know he would not be punished.