mother, and though his foster-father had been at times, stern and
unsympathetic with him, no hint had ever before dropped from him to
indicate that the child was not as much his own as the sons of other
fathers were their own--that he was not as much entitled to the good
things of life which were heaped upon him without the asking as an own
son would have been. His comforts--his pleasures had been so easily, so
plentifully bestowed that the little dreamer had never before awaked to
a realization of a difference between his relation with his parents and
the relation of other children with theirs. Brought face to face with
this hard, cold fact for the first time, and so suddenly, he was for the
moment stunned by it. He felt that a flood of deep waters in which he
was floundering helplessly was overwhelming him.

A deep silence had followed the last words of Mr. Allan, who continued
to trim the switch, while his wife, sinking into a chair, bowed her
face in her arms, folded upon the table, and began to cry softly. The
gentle sounds of her weeping seemed but further to infuriate her
husband.

"Come with me," he commanded, placing his hand on the shoulder of the
child, who unresistingly suffered himself to be pushed along toward his
foster-father's room. Frances Allan broke into wild sobbing and placed
her fingers against her ears that she might not hear the screams of her
pet. But there were no screams. Silently, and with an air of dignity it
was marvellous so small a figure could command, the beautiful boy
received the blows. When one's soul has been hurt, what matters mere
physical pain? When both the strength and the passion of Mr. Allan had
been somewhat spent, he ceased laying on blows and asked in a calmed
voice,