w I was wrong, I could not muster
courage to speak to either of my parents about it; no, not even in that
moment of deepest confidence when my mother looked in to wish me
good-night before I went to sleep, and sat, as she was wont to do, upon
my bed talking to me about the various things which had happened during
the day.

Many a time, on such occasions, I thought of telling her my troubles,
but was afraid lest she should think me very naughty; so I tried at last
to persuade myself there was not much to tell after all.

Half an hour spent with us in the school-room the next morning convinced
my mother that Aleck's work had been well done. I fancy that she watched
me a little closely for a few days, but I happened to be specially
prosperous in my lessons, and nothing occurred to disturb my serenity,
so that she dismissed after a time the anxiety which had begun to arise
in her mind concerning me.

As for Aleck, he had no notion of the real state of things. I am sure he
must have thought me selfish and cross very often, but almost as often
he would win me into good temper again; and his own temperament was
naturally so bright and sunshiny, that trouble never seemed to remain
long with him.

It was about a fortnight later that I was sitting, after breakfast, in
my father's study doing my arithmetic. Our school-room adjoined the
study, and it was not an unfrequent arrangement, that whilst Aleck did
his construing with Mr. Glengelly, I should take in my slate to my
father's room and do my sums. I fancy he liked to have me with him; for
whenever he was at home he would look up with quite a pleased expression
when, after knocking at the door, I appeared with my slate and made the
usual inquiry whether I should disturb him if I came in just then; and
would tell me that I never disturbed him, and bid me show him my sum
before I returned to the school-room, when he had always some pleasant
remark to make upon it.

I then was sitting on my favourite seat in the window working at
compound division, when my mother came into the room.

"I've been thinking," she said to my father, "that it's a pity both the
boys should not go with you to Stavemoor: if you could manage without
Rickson, or let him ride one of the carriage horses, I think you might
trust Aleck on the gray."

I listened to every word, my pencil going slowly and more slowly, whilst
I put down three times nine, twenty-seven--two, carry seven; and was
hopelessly wro