"I say," he exclaimed suddenly, "the Pater does preach a lot lately about what he calls the City of Gold, and old 'Step'--she doesn't like it. I heard her say to him a couple of Sundays back, 'Patrick, you are frightfully morbid,' and he said, 'Do you call that morbid?' I did not dare to ask 'Step,' for she got so red and stamped her foot and said, 'Really and truly, all my plans will be upset.' I say, Maureen, can't you go and ask the Pater?" "Oh, you are right enough," said Maureen; "whatever happens, you are his own children; and his wife will look after her daughters. But oh, Dominic, what's to become of me? There is only the world and it's _cold_; and I know very little, for I haven't been taught much. There's only the cold world for Maureen." "There's nothing of the sort," cried Dominic. "I swear that I'll share my very last crust with you, Maureen." "Oh, but aren't you a darling," said the child. She suddenly gave him some sloppy wet kisses on his freckled face, then she said, "You make me feel brave. When shall I go and see Uncle Pat? We may be frightening ourselves about nothing after all." "Of course we may," said Dominic, who was a very cheerful sort of lad. "I've got a grand plan. The 'Step' has driven to Kingsala to see a lot of friends, and she put on her very, very best clothes, and a great aigrette in her hat, which I thought wasn't right for her to wear, and she was in blue with heaps of flowers fastened on her dress. I'll bring father right out here. It's a perfect day, and I'll get his great thick rug and some cushions, and he shall lie close to you, little mate, and you can ask him anything in the wide world that you like. I don't believe that story myself, not a bit, not a bit, but remember and never forget that, if the worst comes, we, you and I, share our last crust together." Maureen made no answer for she could not. Dominic, feeling very stiff and tall and determined, went as far as the study door. The Reverend Patrick lived in his study; it was his room of rooms. The lad was just about to go in when he heard voices, which surprised him and made his stout young heart stand still. One voice was his father's, the other his step-mother's. CHAPTER II. EAVESDROPPING. Dominic had never in his short life of fifteen years been known to do an underhand or mean thing. It is true he had plenty of faults--for what lad has not--but his virtues outshone strong passions, and nobody in reality guessed that he possessed a wild, fearless, and adventurous nature.