Jessie went into a little tool-shed, which was close to the rabbits' dwelling-place. She did not like to watch the window, but was too anxious to be able to go and help Francie with her gardening, or to play with Lewis, who was wandering aimlessly about. 'Father,' who was so tender to his little girls, who was the very very best man, as Jessie believed, in the whole world, could nevertheless be very severe when he saw occasion—could reprove in a way which an offender was not likely to forget. He had wonderful patience for the blunders of little Lewis, who was rather dull, and found lessons a daily difficulty; but he had always expected much more of Cecil, who was really full of ability, and had sometimes dealt seriously with his fits of idleness in the days of his home teaching. And now—now when the boy had failed just when every principle of duty should have made him exert himself to the utmost—what could be looked for? Oh, what a bitter half-hour this must be to Cecil!
Yes, for half an hour passed, and still Cecil did not come back. Jessie's fright and agitation were growing very hard to bear. 'Oh I know it is right!' she said, clasping her hands together; 'I know we must be scolded and punished for our faults; only I wish it was me, and not Cecil. And, after all, I think there must have been some mistake, for he says he did work; and if father could only believe it, I am sure he wouldn't be angry, even though Cecil has lost his place in school! Oh, I wish it could be made clear somehow! I know! I will ask God to make it clear.' And then the little girl prayed to the heavenly Father, whom the earthly father had taught her to seek in all her troubles.
Eight o'clock struck, and she started to her feet.
'Oh! I must go in and do my work—I shall only just be able to finish it before bed-time. Father must have gone to the choir practice. I wonder if he has taken Cecil with him, and if that is the reason why he hasn't come back?'
With a deep-drawn breath of relief at this possibility, she ran into the house, and meeting her eldest brother in the hall, hastily inquired if he knew what had become of Cecil.
'He's in his room, I think,' was the answer. 'Poor little beggar! I fancied I heard him sobbing, and wanted to go in, but he wouldn't let me. I've just been telling Mary, that if I don't succeed in getting my commission without purchase I shall enlist as a private, and never come home at all. I couldn't stand seeing you all look as glum about me as you do about Cecil.'
'Oh, but, Percy, would that be—' began little Jessie in consternation; and then he laughed, and she saw that he was joking.
'Mother's been looking for you,' he said as she turned towards the staircase; 'she wants you to do some work.'
'Where's father?'
'Gone to the choir practice a quarter of an hour ago. Good-bye; I'm going out for a stroll. Try and cheer up that poor little chap; perhaps he'll let you in, as you're his chum.'