rowned, and said, turning
away a little from Frank's tear-stained face: "I would gladly believe
you, my boy, but it is too improbable. As Andrew says, honest boys do
not associate with thieves."

"Ask any of 'em at Danecross, sir," pleaded poor Frank in despair;
"anyone ull tell ye I belong to honest folk."

"That's no proof you're not a thief," put in the persistent Andrew;
"there's many a rotten apple hangs on a sound tree."

The rector looked up impatiently.

"Leave the boy alone with me, Andrew," he said, "I wish to ask him some
questions;" and as the man left the room he seated himself in his big
leather chair and beckoned Frank to him. "Come here," he said, "and
answer me truthfully."

Frank stood at his elbow, trembling still in fear of being sent to
prison, and yet with a faint hope stealing into his heart.

Bit by bit he sobbed forth his story in answer to the rector's
questions, and finally raising his swollen eyelids to the kind face he
said:

"If so be as mother was to know I wur sent to prison it 'ud break her
'art."

"Tell me," said the rector, "have your parents lived long at Green
Highlands? Are they well-known there?"

"Father, he's lived there all his life," said Frank; "and granther, he
used to live there too. Father can do a better day's work nor any man
in Danecross," he added with conscious pride.

"Ah!" said the rector, "it's a fine thing to be a good workman, and to
have earned a good name, isn't it?"

Frank hung his head.

"But it isn't done by tramping about the country with bad companions. A
good name's a precious thing, and like all precious things it's got by
trouble and labour. It's the best thing a father can hand down to his
son. When he begins life, men say, `He's Frank Darvell's son, he comes
of a good stock;' and so the `good name' his father earned is of great
use to him. But he can't live on that; he has to make one of his own
too, so that he can hand it on to _his_ sons and daughters and say,
`There's my father's name, I've never disgraced it; now it's your turn
to use it well.' But suppose that the son doesn't value his father's
good name. Suppose that he chooses an idle good-for-nothing life and
his own pleasure, rather than to work hard and live honestly; what
happens then? Why, then, men soon leave off trusting him, and say,
`He's not the man his father was;' and so the name of Darvell, which
used to be so honoured and respected, comes to be connected