east, my head does ache. But it is my heart, Roy,--my
heart."

"Then you've heard bad news," cried the boy. "Oh, mother, tell me; what
is it? Not about father?"

"No, no; Heaven forbid, my dear," cried Lady Royland, wildly. "It is
the absence of news that troubles me so."

"I ought to say us," said Roy, angrily; "but I'm so selfish and
thoughtless."

"Don't think that, my boy. You are very young yet, but I do wish you
would give more thought to your studies with Master Pawson."

The boy frowned.

"I wish you'd let me read with you, mother," he said. "I understand
everything then, and I don't forget it; but when that old--"

"Master Palgrave Pawson," said Lady Royland, reprovingly, but with a
smile.

"Oh, well, Master Palgrave Pawson. P.P., P.P. What a mouthful it seems
to be!"

"Roy!"

"I've tried, mother; but I do get on so badly with him. I can't help
it; I don't like him, and he doesn't like me, and it will always be the
same."

"But why? Why do you not like him?"

"Because--because--well, he always smiles at me so."

"That does not seem as if he disliked you. Rather the reverse."

"He's so smooth and oily."

"It is only his manner, my dear. He seems to be very sincere, and to
have your welfare at heart."

"Yes, that's it, mother; he won't let me alone."

"But he is your tutor, my dear. You know perfectly well that he came to
be your father's secretary and your tutor combined."

"Yes, I know, mother," said the boy, impatiently; "but somehow he
doesn't seem to teach me."

"But he is very studious, and tries hard."

"Yes, I know. But he seems to think I'm about seven instead of nearly
seventeen, and talks to me as if I were a very little boy, and--and--and
we don't get on."

"This sounds very sad, Roy, and I cannot bear to have a fresh trouble
now. Your studies are so important to us."

Roy reached up to get his arms round his mother's neck, drew her head
down, and kissed her lovingly.

"And she shan't have any more trouble," he cried. "I'll get wonderfully
fond of old Paw."

"Roy!"

"Master Palgrave Pawson, then; and I'll work at my lessons and classics
like a slave. But you will read with me, too, mother?"

"As much as you like, my son. Thank you. That has taken away part of
my load."

"I wish I could take away the rest; but I know you're fidgeting because
father hasn't written, and think that something has happened to him.
But don't you get fancying that, bec