When Rod went home from school, Mrs. Royal noticed the crimson mark upon his cheek where the whip had struck him. She asked no questions, however, for she wanted Rod to tell of his own free will how it happened. It was after he was in bed, that the boy looked up inquiringly into Mrs. Royal's face, as she stood by his side before bidding him good-night.
"Grandma," he began, "what is a pauper?"
"Oh, it is a person who has no home, and no money, and has to live upon others," was the reply.
"Am I a pauper, grandma?" and the boy's face flushed.
"You a pauper!" Mrs. Royal exclaimed, as she sat down upon a chair by the side of the bed. "What makes you ask such a question, dear? Whoever put such an idea into your head?"
"Tom Dunker said that I am a pauper."
"He did! When did he tell you that?"
"To-day, just before he hit me with his whip and made the mark upon my cheek."
"Oh!"
It was all that Mrs. Royal could say. She had become suddenly aroused, feeling sure that something of a serious nature had happened that day.