“Bless you, miss, that young gentleman lost his head quite. They say he fought his way out like a madman, and lots of people saw him flying home in his white finery like a cat with a cinder on its back! No, no, missie, it was Mr. Lionel as brought us news of the folks at the windows. We musn’t be too hard on the people as loses their heads at such a time; but we likes better to see them behaving themselves rational like. It was fine the way the ladies in the hall behaved! They thought nothing of themselves, but all was for getting the little ’uns safely out. If they’d gone and lost their heads and made a rush, it would have been a terrible nasty business, and some of ’em had bound to be killed; but what with them behind and the police at the doors, it all went off beautiful, one might say.” They talked a little more to the man and then went their way. Sheila’s face wore an indignant flush. She said in a low voice to Oscar— “I think I could have forgiven him the panic; he mightn’t be able to help that. But to tell that mean lie afterwards! Oh, I can never respect him again.” Oscar was silent a few minutes, and then said slowly— “I think, Sheila, that we had better try to forget it, and not to say anything to anybody else about it. It hurts people’s feelings if their next-of-kin are proved unworthy, and Cyril has been thought so much of at home. Perhaps in the confusion nobody will think much more about it. You know it is often the nearest relatives who do not hear the exact truth about a bit of a failure like that. We won’t be the people to talk of it. Our uncle and aunt have been very kind to us. We must remember that, and I think it would be a terrible trouble to Aunt Tom if she were to think——” Oscar did not complete his sentence, and Sheila said quickly— “Isn’t it better for them to know the truth?” “But perhaps it isn’t really the truth,” said Oscar, “I am not sure that a man should be judged for what he does in a time of panic——” “No, but the lie afterwards——” “Yes, that was bad; but think of the temptation to make some excuse for himself! Do you know I can fancy being tempted to it. He had always been thought so much of at home and in the town. To be branded as a coward! It would be almost unendurable.” Sheila was silent; she felt that Cyril deserved the brand, and her youthful clearness of judgment made compromise difficult. “Well, I won’t say anything if you don’t think I ought, but I can never like Cyril again. I shall always despise him.” “We must not despise one another more than we can help,” said Oscar soberly. “You know, Sheila, we have so many faults ourselves. We ought to try and think of that.”