"Yes, yes; we must be cautious, _most_ cautious, in our treatment," says Miss Priscilla, nervously, "and very careful of his comings and goings, without _appearing_ to be so! Dear me! dear me! I wonder if the greatness of our cause justifies so much deceit. It sounds jesuitical, my dear Penelope, say what we can." "The end justifies the means," says Miss Penelope, as solemnly as if this speech emanated from her throat as an original remark. "Oh, don't! my dear Penelope!" says Miss Priscilla, with a shudder; "that is _their_ principal argument." "Whose? The children's?" asks Miss Penelope, startled. "No; the Jesuits,--the Inquisitors,--those dreadful people we read of in 'Westward Ho,'" says Miss Priscilla, protestingly. "Still, I agree with you; secrecy is the part we have to play. We must keep one eye" (as if there was only one between them) "upon him without _seeming_ to do so. And there he is,"--pointing through the window to where Terence may be seen coming slowly towards the window in which they stand in a most unhappy frame of mind. "I wonder where he can have been for the past half-hour," says Miss Priscilla presently, in a nervous whisper, though Terence is so far off that if she spoke at the top of her lungs he could not have heard her. "Perhaps if we ask him he may tell us," says Miss Penelope, equally nervous and decidedly with great doubt as to the success of her suggestion. "Well, you ask him," says Miss Priscilla. "I am greatly wanting in _force_ on occasions such as these," says Miss Penelope, hurriedly. "No, no, my dear; you ask him. But be gentle with him, my dear Priscilla." "Why can't _you_ do it?" persists Miss Blake, plainly anxious to shift the obnoxious task from her own shoulders to another's. "You have great influence with the children, I have remarked many times." "Nothing to _yours_," says Miss Penelope, with an agitated wave of her hand. "I couldn't do it; indeed I _couldn't_, my dear Priscilla," openly quaking. "Don't ask me. See, here he comes! Now be firm,--be _firm_, Priscilla, but lenient, _very_ lenient: he is only a boy, remember, and even the great Luther was strangely wanting in principle when young." "It is my duty; I suppose I must go through with it," says poor Miss Priscilla, sighing; and then she throws wide the window and calls to Terence to come to her. "Where have you been, Terence?" "At the back gate, aunt." "But, my _dear_ Terence, _why_ at the back gate? Such a nice day for a good long wholesome walk! Why spend it at the back gate?" "Because--that is--I----" "My dear boy, be calm. Wait a moment now, Terence, and don't hurry yourself. There is no occasion for haste." "I was only going to say, aunt----"