“The reason,” resumed Dr. Middleton, having now returned to the usual benignity of his manner—“the reason why I desired that none of you should go to that building,” pointing out of the window, “was this:—I had been informed that a gang of gipsies had slept there the night before I spoke to you, one of whom was dangerously ill of a putrid fever. I did not choose to mention my reason to you or your friends. I have had the place cleaned, and you may return to it when you please. The gipsies were yesterday removed from the town.” “De Grey, you were in the right,” whispered Archer, “and it was I that was _unjust_.” “The old woman,” continued the doctor, “whom you employed to buy food, has escaped the fever, but she has not escaped a gaol, whither she was sent yesterday, for having defrauded you of your money. “Mr. Fisher,” said Dr. Middleton, “as to you, I shall not punish you; I have no hope of making you either wiser or better. Do you know this paper?”—the paper appeared to be a bill for candles and a tinder-box. “I desired him to buy those things, sir,” said Archer, colouring. “And did you desire him not to pay for them?” “No,” said Archer, “he had half a crown on purpose to pay for them.” “I know he had, but he chose to apply it to his private use, and gave it to the gipsy to buy twelve buns for his own eating. To obtain credit for the tinder-box and candles, he made use of _this_ name,” said he, turning to the other side of the bill, and pointing to De Grey’s name, which was written at the end of a copy of one of De Grey’s exercises. “I assure you, sir—” cried Archer. “You need not assure me, sir,” said Dr. Middleton; “I cannot suspect a boy of your temper of having any part in so base an action. When the people in the shop refused to let Mr. Fisher have the things without paying for them, he made use of De Grey’s name, who was known there. Suspecting some mischief, however, from the purchase of the tinder-box, the shopkeeper informed me of the circumstance. Nothing in this whole business gave me half so much pain as I felt, for a moment, when I suspected that De Grey was concerned in it.” A loud cry, in which Archer’s voice was heard most distinctly, declared De Grey’s innocence. Dr. Middleton looked round at their eager, honest faces, with benevolent approbation. “Archer,” said he, taking him by the hand, “I am heartily glad to see that you have got the better of your party spirit. I wish you may keep such a friend as you have now beside you; one such friend is worth two such parties. As for you, Mr. Fisher, depart; you must never return hither again.” In vain he solicited Archer and De Grey to intercede for him. Everybody turned away with contempt; and he sneaked out, whimpering in a doleful voice, “What shall I say to my Aunt Barbara?” THE BRACELETS.