ed his mother's room, and then went down more
slowly, for he could hear the murmur of voices in the dining-room, which
he had to pass to reach the front door, outside which he did not care
what happened; but now he had to pass that dining-room, and go along the
passage and by the stand upon which his cocked hat hung.

It was nervous work, but he went on down the first flight, running his
hand slowly along the hand-balustrade, all down which he had so often
slid while Kitty looked on laughing, and yet alarmed lest he should
fall. And what a long time ago that seemed!

He had just reached the bottom flight, and was wondering what to say if
the door should open and his uncle meet him with the blue bundle under
his arm, when the dining-room door did open, and he dashed back to the
landing and stood in the doorway of his mother's room, listening as a
step was heard upon the stairs.

"Kitty!" he said to himself, as he thrust against the door, which
yielded to his pressure, and he backed in softly till he could push the
door to, and stand inside, watching through the crack.

There was the light, soft step coming up and up, and his heart began to
beat, he knew not why, till something seemed to rise in his throat, and
made his breath come short and painfully.

His mother!

She was coming to her room, and in another moment she would be there,
and would find him with the bundle under his arm, about to run away.

Quick as thought he looked sharply round, bundle in hand, when, obeying
the first impulse, he was about to push it beneath the bedclothes, but
cast aside the plan because he felt that it would be noticed, and quick
as thought he tossed the light bundle up on the top of the great canopy
of the old-fashioned bedstead, to lie among the gathering of flue and
dust.

By that time the footsteps were at the door.

"What shall I say?" Don asked himself; "she will want to know why I am
here."

He felt confused, and rack his brains as he would, no excuse would come.

But it was not wanted, for the light footstep with the rustle of silk
passed on upstairs, and Don opened the door slightly to listen. His
breath came thickly with emotion as he realised where his mother had
gone. It was to his bedroom door, and as he listened he heard her tap
lightly.

"Don! Don, my boy!" came in low, gentle tones.

For one moment the boy's heart prompted him to rush up and fling himself
in her arms, but again his worse half suggeste