Awaiting this event, all the members of the family gathered in the library, sitting around Leigh in a semicircle and looking at him, much as they might have gazed at a wanderer rescued from the perils of some distant and unknown clime. Leigh, who had been thoroughly lectured by his father on the way home, looked limp and white. He sat in Mr. Carter’s large chair and clung to the arms with his thin, white hands, the lock falling low on his forehead and the rims of his eyes suspiciously red. Mr. Carter, trembling with joy at his son’s release, had nevertheless exploded with long-suppressed wrath. “You’ve had a lesson now, young man,” he had said hoarsely. “Mind you profit by it. If I catch you with shooting-irons again, I’ll lam you for it if you’re as big as the house!” Leigh, who had indeed had a bitter experience, had made no reply. He was aware of Daniel’s significant silence on the other side. It was a painful moment, only alleviated by his mother’s fond ecstasy and Emily’s sobs. Those two, at least, were glad to get him back on any terms. Now, in the library, he sat looking about at the family circle with a feeling of pitiful embarrassment. It was almost worse than sitting in the dock. He lifted his eyes reluctantly and found his father still explosive between relief and long-bottled anger. His mother and Emily were still sniffing, while Daniel was engaged at the table, making some notes. In the corner, alone and morose, sat William. Leigh turned his eyes that way only once. He found his brother’s haggard face unpleasant to look at. He sat again with his eyes down, moving one foot occasionally, or gripping nervously at the arms of his chair. Miranda came to the door, her brown face wreathed in smiles. “Lunch is ready, Mis’ Carter, an’ dem tarts came out right smart, yes’m!” Mrs. Carter rose and laid her hand on Leigh’s shoulder. “Come, darling,” she said fondly. “We’ve got a nice lunch and some cherry tarts for you.” The boy rose awkwardly, and his mother led him along, clinging to him, doting upon him, while the rest of the family trailed in the rear. As they entered the dining-room, Leigh counted the places. “Sit right down here beside mamma,” cooed his mother, patting the chair on her right. “I’ve got lamb chops and green peas--just for you, dear!” Leigh stood with his hand on the back of his chair, and glanced questioningly up and down the table. “Where’s Fanchon?” he asked in a low voice. There was that kind of silence that seems to be audible. It was Mr. Carter who answered him, frowning heavily. “She left us some time ago,” he said shortly. “I wish you to know, Leigh, that--this family’s done with her. Understand?” Leigh caught his breath, and his mouth fell open. He stared at William, but William was looking down at his plate. The only sign he gave of having heard his father’s remark was the deep red flush that went up to his hair. Leigh remained standing, though his mother clutched at his sleeve.