--Luke vi, 87.

Calhoun Conly was much perturbed by the occurrences of the evening. He
was fond of his cousin Elsie and her children, and very sorry, for both
her sake and theirs, that they had suffered this fright; he greatly
respected and liked Mr. Travilla too, and would fain have stood well
in his esteem; he had hoped that he did; and also with his Uncle
Horace,--he had been so kindly treated, especially of late, at both Ion
and the Oaks; but now this unfortunate episode had placed him in a false
position, and he could hardly expect to be again trusted or believed in.

Such were his cogitations as he sat alone in the veranda, after the Ion
carriage had driven away. "What shall I do?" he asked himself, "what
shall I do to recover their good opinion?"

Just then Walter appeared before him, looking crestfallen and angry.

"I say, Cal, it's bad enough for you to have thrashed me as you did,
without bringing mother and Aunt Enna, and maybe grandfather too, down
on me about those wretched masks and things; so give 'em up and let Dick
and me put 'em back before they get home."

"Of course put them back as fast as you can; pity you hadn't let them
alone," said Calhoun, rising and with a quick step leading the way
toward the nursery, "and," he added, "we must see what we can do to keep
the young ones from blabbing; else putting them back will help your case
very little."

"Oh we'll never be able to do that!" exclaimed Walter, despairingly,
"one or another of 'em is sure to let it out directly. And there come
the folks now," as the rolling of wheels was heard in the avenue. "It's
of no use; they'll know all about it in five minutes."

"Yes, sir, you and Dick have got yourselves into a fine box, beside all
the trouble you've made for other people," said Calhoun angrily. Then
laying his hand on Walter's arm as he perceived that he was meditating
flight, "No, sir, stay and face the music like a man; don't add
cowardice to all the rest of it."

They heard the clatter of little feet running through the house and out
upon the veranda, the carriage draw up before the door, then the voices
of the children pouring out the story of their fright, and the
punishment of its authors, and the answering tones of their grandfather
and the ladies; Mr. Dinsmore's expressing surprise and indignation,
Enna's full of passion, and Mrs. Conly's of cold displeasure.

"Let go o' me! they're coming this way," cried Walter, trying to wrench