'I didn't mean to be cruel,' Maurice said. And, what is more, he spoke the truth. All the unwelcome attentions he had showered on Lord Hugh had not been exactly intended to hurt that stout veteran--only it was interesting to see what a cat would do if you threw it in the water, or cut its whiskers, or tied things to its tail. 'Oh, but you must have meant to be cruel,' said mother, 'and you will have to be punished.' 'I wish I hadn't,' said Maurice, from the heart. 'So do I,' said his mother, with a sigh; 'but it isn't the first time; you know you tied Lord Hugh up in a bag with the hedgehog only last Tuesday week. You'd better go to your room and think it over. I shall have to tell your father directly he comes home.' Maurice went to his room and thought it over. And the more he thought the more he hated Lord Hugh. Why couldn't the beastly cat have held his tongue and sat still? That, at the time would have been a disappointment, but now Maurice wished it had happened. He sat on the edge of his bed and savagely kicked the edge of the green Kidderminster carpet, and hated the cat. He hadn't meant to be cruel; he was sure he hadn't; he wouldn't have pinched the cat's feet or squeezed its tail in the door, or pulled its whiskers, or poured hot water on it. He felt himself ill-used, and knew that he would feel still more so after the inevitable interview with his father. But that interview did not take the immediately painful form expected by Maurice. His father did _not_ say, 'Now I will show you what it feels like to be hurt.' Maurice had braced himself for that, and was looking beyond it to the calm of forgiveness which should follow the storm in which he should so unwillingly take part. No; his father was already calm and reasonable--with a dreadful calm, a terrifying reason. 'Look here, my boy,' he said. 'This cruelty to dumb animals must be checked--severely checked.' 'I didn't mean to be cruel,' said Maurice. 'Evil,' said Mr. Basingstoke, for such was Maurice's surname, 'is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart. What about your putting the hen in the oven?' 'You know,' said Maurice, pale but determined, 'you _know_ I only wanted to help her to get her eggs hatched quickly. It says in "Fowls for Food and Fancy" that heat hatches eggs.' 'But she hadn't any eggs,' said Mr. Basingstoke. 'But she soon would have,' urged Maurice. 'I thought a stitch in time----' 'That,' said his father, 'is the sort of thing that you must learn not to think.' 'I'll try,' said Maurice, miserably hoping for the best. 'I intend that you shall,' said Mr. Basingstoke. 'This afternoon you go to Dr. Strongitharm's for the remaining week of term. If I find any more cruelty taking place during the holidays you will go there permanently. You can go and get ready.' 'Oh, father, _please_ not,' was all Maurice found to say.