"You do not look well to-night, dear," said Mary anxiously; "is
anything the matter?"

"I am quite well, mother," replied the boy. "Let me have my supper.
I am quite ready for it."

As he spoke, he turned away his eyes from Mary's inquiring look.
Mary, without another word, set herself about preparing the supper,
of oatmeal porridge. She saw that something was wrong with Stephen,
and that he did not wish to be questioned, so she remained silent.
In the mean time Stephen had placed his feet on the fender, rested
his elbows on his knees, and his head on his hands. His hands
covered his face; and, by and by, a few large tears began to trickle
down his fingers. Then suddenly dashing off his tears, as though he
were ashamed of them, he showed his pale, agitated face, and said,
in a tone of indignation and resolve,

"Mother, I am determined I will bear it no longer."

Mary was not surprised. She finished pouring out the porridge; then,
taking a stool, she seated herself beside him.

"Why, Stephen," she said, trying to speak cheerfully, "how many
hundred times before have you made that resolution! But what's the
matter now? Have you any new trouble to tell me of?"

Stephen answered by silently removing with his hand some of his
thick curly hair, and showing beneath it an ear bearing the too
evident marks of cruel usage.