Spite of Jessie's tired feet, the walk back was very pleasant; and neither she nor Cecil were insensible to the honour of having their father all to themselves, and at this unusual time of day too. He explained that he had met their mother in the village, so anxious about Jessie, that instead of waiting till towards twelve o'clock to go into Fairview, he had got Mr. Yorke to finish his parish business for him, and had started off at once, accepting a lift from Mr. Rawson by the way. And when he added quietly, 'You will take care that she is never made uneasy again by any thoughtlessness on your part, Jessie!' the little girl answered, 'Yes, father,' in a very subdued and humble tone, and felt quite as sorry as if he had lectured her for an hour.
'Do you think Mr. Yorke will be at home again now? Might I run in for a minute, father?' said Cecil as they passed the curate's lodging.
'I am not sure; you can see if you like.' And Cecil did see; and finding his friend busily engaged sermon-writing in the queer little dining-room, tarried only for a few words.
'I suppose father has told you,' he said as he burst in.
'Yes, I am so glad;' and Cecil's inky little paw was enfolded in the curate's heartiest grasp.
'I shan't forget this week in a hurry,' the boy continued; 'but I'm not so very sorry now that it all happened. Thank you for that nice Sunday.'
He did not say, but he implied how much it had helped him through; and Mr. Yorke answered cheerily, 'I could have sympathized more if I had known all that I know now; but I don't think you wanted pity. I believe your father's sermon showed you the way to bear your trouble.'
Cecil's cheeks were burning, and he only said shyly, 'You showed me too;' and then hastily adding, 'I want to catch up with father before he gets home,' ran off again, after one more hearty shake of the hand had been exchanged between them.
If the memory of pain could be effaced by after-happiness, the remainder of this day would have amply sufficed to blot out the past week. Never did Cecil feel more glad than when his mother kissed him, called him her own darling boy, and at his request forgave Jessie's escapade, and gave her and Frances a week's holiday, that he might have as much of their company as he chose. And on the following Sunday, when he took his place in the choir again, and Mr. Yorke came to dinner at the Rectory, and all was thankful rejoicing, that sorrowful Sunday on which he had felt as if the whole world were against him seemed already far away.
The trial was gone by, and some of the effects it had left behind it were very pleasant. But for it, Cecil felt he never could have known Mr. Yorke so well, nor his own little sister Jessie. They were his especial friends from henceforth, in a way which they had never been before, even though Jessie had always been regarded by Percy and others as 'Cecil's particular chum.' Percy himself had seemed hitherto at an immeasurable distance from Cecil, and had generally appeared to expect to be treated with the same sort of respect as would have been shown to a school 'senior;' but now, wonderful to relate, a change came over him, and he condescended to unbend not only a little, but a very great deal. It actually seemed as if he had begun to respect Cecil! No one but a schoolboy, with an admired and venerated elder brother rather given to snubbing, can quite realize how astonishing this change appeared to the person most concerned. For Percy to invite Cecil to come out fishing with him, in the genial tone of an equal who really cared for his companionship, instead of ordering him in a lordly way to take his tackle down to the river for him, was something so unexpected and flattering, that it went nearer to turning Cecil's head than anything that had happened yet. Perhaps it really might have done so, but for the wholesome lessons the boy had learned during his time of humiliation.