Mr. Horace Dinsmore came down as the rest were about leaving the table.
"I should like to have a few moments' conversation with you, Horace, when you have finished your tea," his father said, lingering behind the others.
"It is just what I wish, sir," replied his son; "I will be with you directly. Shall I find you in the library?"
"Yes. I hope the child was not hurt, Horace?" he added, inquiringly, stepping back again just as he had reached the door.
"Pretty badly, I am afraid," said Mr. Dinsmore, gravely; "she is suffering a good deal."
Mr. Dinsmore was not long at the table, for he was anxious to get back to his child; yet his father, whom he found striding back and forth across the library, in a nervous, excited way, hailed him with the impatient exclamation, "Come at last, Horace, I thought you would never have done eating."
Then throwing himself into a chair, "Well, what is to be done about this bad business?" he asked. "Is it true that Arthur had a hand in it?"
"I have not a doubt of it myself, sir," replied his son. "They all agree that he was close to her when she fell, and neither he nor she denies that he pushed her; she only begs not to be forced to speak, and he says nothing.
"And now, father, I have fully made up my mind that either that boy must be sent away to school, or I must take Elsie and make a home for her elsewhere."
"Why, Horace! that is a sudden resolution, is it not?"