doing?" said Aleck.

"Writing."

"His book?"

"No, letters; and as busy as could be. Come, try and drink your tea."

"But isn't it very early for tea--directly after dinner like this?"

"Directly after dinner? Why, bless the boy, it's past seven!"

"Then I must have been asleep," said the boy, speaking more collectedly
now.

"I should just think you must, and the best thing for you. Hark!
There's master's study bell; he wants more tea. I must go; but promise
me you'll take yours?"

"Yes, I'm dreadfully thirsty," said the lad, and as the woman left the
room he began to sip the tea and eat pieces of the toast till all was
gone, and then, after a weary sigh, he glanced at his bundle and hat
upon the chair, reeled towards the bed, held on by the painted post,
while he thrust off his boots and then literally rolled upon it, with
his face looking scarlet upon the white pillow. The next moment he was
breathing heavily in deep, dreamless sleep.

That dreamless sleep lasted till the old eight-day clock on the landing
had struck eleven, during which time Jane, who was growing anxious about
him, came in three times--the first to take away the tea and dinner
things, the other twice to make sure that he was not going into a high
fever, as she termed it, and feeling better satisfied each time.

"Nothing like so hot," she said to herself. "It was that cup o' tea
that did him good. There's nothing like a hot cup o' tea and a good
sleep for a bad headache."

So Jane left and went to bed after a final peep, and, as before said,
the sound sleep went on till the clock began to strike, and then he
began to dream that his uncle came into the room with a chamber
candlestick in his hand, set it down where its light shone full upon his
stern, severe old features, and seated himself upon the chair by the
bed's head.

Then he began to question him; and it seemed to the boy that in his
dream he answered without moving his head or opening his eyes, which
appeared strange, for he fancied he could see the old man's angry face
all the time.

"Not undressed, Aleck?" said the old man.

"No, uncle."

"Shoes here ready--hat, bundle, and stick on the chair! Does that mean
waiting till all is quiet, and then running away from home?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Hah! From one who took you to his heart when you were a little orphan
child, just when your widowed mother had closed her eyes for ever on
this weary world, and swore to treat yo