"And bring me up some apricot," put in George. "And we'll have some gooseberry," called out Rosa. "If you boys have jam, we'll have some too." Nancy disappeared. Cyril suddenly threw himself back on the sofa, and burst into another ringing laugh. "I can't help it," he exclaimed. "I am thinking of the old woman's fright, and their dismay at having to pay the damage." "Do you know what I should do in your place, Cyril?" said Miss Benyon. "I should go back to Markham, and tell him honourably that I caused the accident. You know how poor they are; they cannot afford to pay for it." Cyril stared at Miss Benyon. "Where'd be the pull of that?" asked he. "The 'pull,' Cyril, would be, that you would repair a wrong done to an unoffending neighbour, and might go to sleep with a clear conscience." The last suggestion amused Cyril amazingly he and conscience had not a great deal to do with each other. He was politely telling Miss Benyon that those notions were good enough for old maids, when Nancy appeared with the several sorts of jam demanded. Cyril drew his chair to the table, and Nancy went down. "Ring the bell, Rosa," said Cyril, before the girl could well have reached the kitchen. "I can't see one sort from another; we must have candles." "Ring it yourself," retorted Rosa. "George, ring the bell," commanded Cyril. George obeyed. He was under Cyril in the college school, and accustomed to obey him. "You might have told Nancy when she was here," remarked Miss Benyon to Cyril. "It would have saved her a journey." "And if it would?" asked Cyril. "What were servants' legs made for, but to be used?" Nancy received the order for the candles, and brought them up. It was to be hoped her legs _were_ made to be used, for scarcely had Cyril begun to enjoy his black currant jam when they were heard coming up the stairs again. "Master Cyril, Mr. Markham wants to see you." Cyril and the rest exchanged looks. "Did you say I was at home?" "Yes, sir." "Then you were an idiot for your pains! I can't come down, tell him. I am at tea." Down went Nancy accordingly. And back she came again. "He says he must see you, Master Cyril." "Be a man, Cyril, and face it," whispered Miss Benyon in his ear. Cyril jerked his head rudely away from her. "I won't go down. There! Nancy, you may tell Markham so." "He has sat down on the garden bench, sir, outside the window to wait," explained Nancy. "He says, if you won't see him he shall ask for Mr. Dare." Cyril appeared to be in for it. He dashed his bread and jam on the table, and clattered down. "Who's wanting me?" called out he, when he got outside. "Oh!--is it you, Markham?" "How came you to throw a stone just now, and break my window, Cyril Dare?" The words threw Cyril into the greatest apparent surprise. "_I_ throw a stone and break your window!" repeated he. "I don't know what you mean."