speed and with a suppressed violence. They looked familiar--painfully,
elusively familiar. Robert felt that in another moment he would
recognize them:

". . . spare Thou them that are penitent . . ."

Now Robert knew for certain. It was his father's favourite answer to
all expostulations. Of course that was it. "Damned rot--damned
rot--damned rot." The little man was swearing passionately to himself.
It was incredible, but there was no mistake possible. And in the full
blast of the discovery his dark eyes, hunted and angry-looking behind
their round glasses, met Robert's, widened, passed on, and came back
again. It was an extraordinary moment. Robert could not have looked
away to save his life. He knew that he had betrayed himself. The
little man knew that he knew. He grew very red, coughed, and blew his
nose violently, his eyes meantime returning repeatedly to Robert's
flushed and frightened face with an expression utterly unfathomable.
It was almost as though he were trying to signal----

"Amen!" declared the whole school with infinite relief and satisfaction.

The clergyman sighed deeply and raised himself painfully from his knees.

"Hymn number 503."

A boy came out from the class next to Robert's and walked to the piano,
and Robert forgot everything else, even his own imminent disgrace. He
had never seen such red hair before--deep red with a touch of purple,
like the leaves of a beech tree in autumn--or such a freckled face.
The freckles lay thick on the small unimportant nose and clashed