Mamma came around a trifle, so that she faced him, and, standing in the shaded light, raised her soft, dark eyes to his, and said,—
“This is out of consideration to him, and not the fear of what will happen to you. That will be the thought for you to go to bed with, and see if you cannot resolve it into a lesson worth the learning. If I adopt you into my household, I shall train you as one of my children. And you will be astonished to see what marvels a little care for the feelings of others will work.”
Stuart blushed and smiled, said good night, and followed papa to the best guest-chamber, that I had put in such lovely order. And so there was quiet through the night.
Louis did not make his appearance at breakfast; but Stuart had been in stirring him up, for we heard the growls. But he was so merry and good-natured when he came down, that one had not the heart to find any fault. Indeed, he kept the children laughing all through the meal.
“What is there to do in this queer little town, Mr. Endicott?” he asked presently. “Fishing, I suppose—the staple amusement of lazy people. Any hunting?”
“Not at this season; and very little at any. There are some nice rambles, and the fishing, as you say.”
“Any young fellows that one would like?”
“Yes a number; though some of them keep pretty busy during the day. And I forgot rowing. There are boats to be had.”
“Thank you. I’ll take a saunter round. I always do have the luck of finding some one.”
“And there are books in the library. You may like to keep fresh for fall. So your brother was a good deal disappointed at not passing?”