had been to have it, to clear himself from the small burdens which were as lead upon his soul! Eddy was much more a man of the world than he, and his liabilities were far greater, but he thought he could understand how he must feel from those sensations of his own. He could not but think, however, that in Eddy’s place he would have said something--he would have given a look or a grasp of the hand to his benefactor to show him that he appreciated and felt what he had done, especially if that benefactor had been likely to get into trouble for it. Then Archie, pondering behind backs, while all that lively chatter was going on, remembered himself that he had not said a word of gratitude to his father for the twenty pounds, had neither felt nor spoken any gratitude. Ah, but I am not his father, Archie said to himself. With this thought, however, came another reflection, that up to this moment he had never shown any thankfulness to his father, who had bestowed so many gifts upon him. He had been embarrassed and awkward, and had taken everything for granted. Who was he to blame another for the same sentiment which was so strong in himself? Only just I am not his father, Archie said. It was when the party was breaking up for the night that Marion seized upon her brother, drawing him into a corner of the hall where the lights were extinguished, and where in the recess of a window there was a sheltered place beyond the reach of observation. She caught him by the arm and drew him aside there, until the others had dispersed, and then a piece of inquiry which he had not anticipated burst upon Archie. “Were you at Aunty Jane’s? Did you take him to Aunty Jane’s?” Marion exclaimed breathlessly, holding his arm with her hands as if in a vice. “You heard him,” said Archie, avoiding the question, “telling all where we had been.” “Were you not there? Did you not go there? He never said a word, but he could not speak if you didn’t. Archie, tell me on your word--were you not there?” Archie saw that her eyes were gleaming, and her face pale. He did not know what to make of this sudden assault, nor what it could matter to Marion whether he had or had not gone to see Aunty Jane. He answered at last, however, with reluctance. “Yes, we were there.” “You were there! you took him there!” cried the girl, her eyes in the dark shooting out sparks of fire. She seized him again by the arm and shook him violently. “Oh, I knew you would do it! What do you care for keeping up our name? If it had been anybody else you might have done what you pleased--but him!” “Why him?” said Archie; “what is he? Do you think I could neglect an old friend, not to speak of my nearest kin, and her that brought us up--” “Oh, what’s in that?--brought us up! She was well paid for it,” cried Marion, “and now established for her life, and everything provided, because papa thinks she was kind to us.” “She was very kind.”