spoke so oddly and looked so unlike himself that his mother wondered
what was the matter with him.

"Have you been out in the sun long?" she asked anxiously.

"No--o," he answered. "I've only been strolling about a little."

"It is hard to keep at home on such a lovely afternoon, but I think you
would have done wisely to have rested," said Mrs. Anketell,
sympathetically; and putting her arm about his shoulders they went to the
orchard, where a glorious tea was spread for them. At any other time
Paul's delight would have been boundless, but to-night he was so listless
and distracted that Mrs. Anketell grew quite anxious about him, and his
depression depressed her.

"Is there anything troubling you, dear?" she asked. "Can't you tell me
what it is and trust me?"

There were tears in her eyes at the thought that her boy could keep aloof
from her in his troubles. Her tender glance, her loving voice, touched
Paul's heart. The whole confession trembled on his lips, and would have
been poured forth, but at that moment the maid came up to say the
clergyman had called, and Mrs. Anketell had to go away to see him, leaving
Paul with his confession unmade.

CHAPTER VIII.

A MIDNIGHT SEARCH.

All the evening Paul watched in a fever of anxiety for Muggridge.
He could not rest. He knew that the boots must be cleaned from all traces
of his folly of the morning, and must be in their place by breakfast time
the next day, or searching inquiries would begin. And matters were a
hundred times worse now that the poor things were hidden away so
suspiciously than if they had been found in his room.

But night came on without bringing any sign of Muggridge, and Paul could
not shake off his depression, which deepened until every one wondered what
was the matter with him. When the others came home, full of all they had
done and seen, the children's pleasure was greatly spoiled by his gloomy
indifference.

After they had all gone to bed Mr. and Mrs. Anketell sat for a long time
discussing the change in their boy, and wondering with pain what it was
that was troubling him, and why he would not confide in them.

Paul, lying awake in his own little room, heard his father and mother come
up to bed. He could not sleep, his mind was in such a turmoil, and he
felt himself in such a terrible situation. It seemed to him now that it
would have been but a little thing to have taken the chance of his muddy
boots being found, and of