nton was in the hall when the carriage drove up. Cicely came in,
on her face an expression of mixed determination and timidity, and her
mother drew her into the morning-room. "Father wants to see you at once,
darling," she said. "You must be good. If you can make him understand
ever so little you know he will be kind."

It was doubtful if this hurried speech would help matters at all, and
there was no time for more, for the Squire was at his door asking the
servants where Miss Clinton was, for he wanted to see her at once.

"I am here, father," said Cicely, going out into the hall again.

"I want you in here," said the Squire. They went into his room and the
door was shut, leaving Mrs. Clinton alone outside.

The Squire marched up to the empty fireplace and took his stand with his
back to it. Cicely sat down in one of the big chairs, which seemed to
disconcert him for a moment.

"I don't know whether you have come home expecting to be welcomed as if
nothing had happened," he began.

"No, I don't expect that, father," said Cicely.

"Oh! Well now, what is the meaning of it? That's what I want to know. I
have been pretty patient, I think. You have had your fling for over a
fortnight, the whole house has been upset and I've said nothing. Now I
want to get to the bottom of it. Because if you think that you can
behave in that way"--here followed a vivid summary of the way in which
Cicely had behaved--"you are very much mistaken." The Squire was now
fairly launched. It only rested with Cicely to keep him going with a
word every now and then, for she knew that until he had wrought himself
into a due state of indignation and then given satisfactory vent to it,
nothing she could say would have any effect at all.

"I am very sorry, father," she said. "I know it was wrong of me, and I
won't do it again."

This was all that was wanted. "Won't do it again?" echoed the Squire.
"No, you won't do it again. I'll take good care of that." He then went
on to bring home to her the enormity of her offence, which seemed to
have consisted chiefly in upsetting the whole house, which he wouldn't
have, and so on. But when he had repeated all he had to say twice, and
most of it three or four times, he suddenly took his seat in the chair
opposite to her and said in quite a different tone, "What on earth made
you do it, Cicely?" and her time had come.

"I was not happy at home, father," she said quietly.

This set the Squire off on anothe