ete surprise as well as the greatest of sorrows to her when she
first began to see signs of trouble with her boy. And gradually her
anxiety led her into the fatal mistake of spoiling Geoffrey by making
him of too much consequence. It came to be recognized in the household
that his moods and humours were to be a sort of family barometer, and
that all efforts were to be directed towards the avoidance of storms.
Not that Geoff was passionate or violent. Had he been so, things would
have sooner come to a crisis. He was simply _tiresome_--tiresome to a
degree that can scarcely be understood by those who have not experienced
such tiresomeness for themselves. And as there is no doubt a grain of
the bully somewhere in the nature of every boy--if not of every human
being--what this tiresomeness might have grown into had the Fates, or
something higher than the Fates, not interposed, it would be difficult
to exaggerate.

The cloudy look had not left Geoff's face when he came into the
drawing-room. But, alas! it was nothing new to see him "looking like
that." His mother took no notice of it.

"Well, Geoff?" she said pleasantly. "How have you got on to-day, my
boy?"

He muttered something indistinctly, which sounded like, "Oh, all right;"
then catching sight of Elsa's reproachful face, he seemed to put some
constraint on himself, and, coming forward to his mother, kissed her
affectionately.

"Are you very tired to-night, mamma?" he said. "Must I not speak to
you?"

Mrs. Tudor _was_ very tired, and she knew by old experience what Geoff's
"speaking" meant--an hour or more's unmitigated grumbling, and dragging
forward of every possible grievance, to have each in turn talked over,
and sympathized about, and smoothed down by her patient hand. Such talks
were not without their effect on the boy; much that his mother said
appealed to his good sense and good feeling, though he but seldom gave
her the satisfaction of seeing this directly. But they were very wearing
to _her_, and it was carrying motherly unselfishness too far to undertake
such discussion with Geoff, when she was already worn out with unusual
anxiety.

She smiled, however, brightly enough, in reply to his questions. It
cheered her to see that he could consider her even thus much.

"Of course I can speak to you, Geoff. Have you anything particular to
tell me?"

"Lots of things," said the boy. He drew forward a chair in which to
settle himself comfortably beside his m