away into the soft dark night.

He closed the window, and went back to find the doctor and Helen all
smiles, and ready to joke instead of scold. Then he went to the piano,
and turned over the music, the airs and songs making him feel more and
more sad, and again and again he found himself saying--

"Why are they so kind to me now, just as I am going away?"

"Shall I stop!" he said to himself, after a time.

"No: I promised Bob I would come, and so I will."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

AN ACT OF FOLLY.

Bedtime at last, and as Dexter bade the doctor and his daughter
"good-night," it seemed to him that they had never spoken so kindly to
him, and the place had never appeared to be so pleasant and homelike
before.

His heart sank as he went up to his room, and he felt as if he could not
go away. The lessons Mr Limpney had given him to write out were not
done; but he had better stop and face him, and every other trouble,
including the window he had broken, and never owned to yet.

It was impossible to go away and leave everybody who was so kind. A
harsh word would have kept him to the point; but now he wavered as he
sat down on the edge of his bed, with his mind in a whirl.

Then, as he sat there, he pictured in his own mind the figure of Bob
Dimsted, waiting for him, laden with articles of outfit necessary for
their voyage, and behind Bob loomed up bright sunny scenes by sea and
land; and with his imagination once more excited by all that the boy had
suggested, Dexter blinded himself to everything but the object he had in
view.

He had planned in his own mind what he would take with him, but now it
had come to the point he felt a strange compunction. Everything he
possessed seemed to him as if it belonged to the doctor, and, finally,
he resolved to take nothing with him but the clothes in which he stood.

He began walking about the room in a listless way, looking about at the
various familiar objects that he was to see no more, and one of the
first things to strike him was a teacup on the washstand, containing
Mrs Millett's infusion, bitter, nauseous, and sweetened to sickliness;
and it struck Dexter that the mixture had been placed in a cup instead
of a glass, so as to make it less objectionable in appearance.

He could not help smiling as he took up the cup and smelt it, seeing at
the same time the old dame's pleasant earnest face--a face that suddenly
seemed to have become very loving, now he was to see