"After," said Tommy promptly; and accepting this as a dismissal he vanished into the house.
The evening meal was not a joyous one for the culprit, owing to his foretaste of what was coming later. His brothers and sisters evidently knew nothing of his escapade, and chattered among themselves as usual; but his mother's eyes rested upon him from time to time with sorrow in their depths. Once a sob came into Tommy's throat, but he fiercely choked it back, scorning to weep even under such harrowing circumstances.
As the family rose from the table, Mr. Gainsborough, pointing to the stairway, said sternly,—
"To your own room, Thomas!"
Very slowly the boy obeyed, and when the upper door had closed upon him, Mrs. Gainsborough laid a detaining hand upon her husband's arm.
"Wait for a moment, John, and look at the child's work."
Mrs. Gainsborough, who was herself an accomplished painter of flowers, opened Tommy's sketch-book, and laid before her husband's eyes the record of the day's outlawry.
A whispered consultation followed, then Mr. Gainsborough ascended the stair with a heavy, portentous tread.
Tommy, sitting miserably on the side of his bed, heard the measured tramp, tramp along the corridor; and folding his arms he set his teeth grimly and waited for the worst.