answered nothing. The teacher saw how it was, and questioned him no
farther. From that time he was kinder toward his wayward and, too
often, offending scholar, and gained a better influence over him.

Not for a moment, during the afternoon, was the thought that his
father knew of his blamelessness absent from Andrew's mind. And,
when he returned home, his heart beat feverishly in anticipation of
the meeting between him and his parent. He felt sure that the
teacher's note had reached his father after the punishment had been
inflicted; and he expected, from an innate sense of right and
justice, that some acknowledgment, grateful to his injured feelings,
of the wrong he had suffered, would be made. There was no thought of
triumph or reaction against his father. He had been wrongly judged,
and cruelly punished; and all he asked for or desired was that his
father should speak kindly to him, and say that he bad been blamed
without a cause. How many a dark shadow would such a gleam of
sunshine have dispelled from his heart. But no such gleam of light
awaited his meeting with his father, who did not even raise his eyes
to look at him as he came into his presence.

For awhile Andrew lingered in the room where his father sat reading,
hoping for a word that would indicate a kinder state of feeling
toward him. But no such word was uttered. At length he commenced
playing with a younger brother, who, not being able to make him do
just as he wished, screamed out some complaint against him, when Mr.
Howland looked up, suddenly, with a lowering countenance, and said,
harshly--

"Go out of the room, sir! I never saw such a boy! No one can have
any peace where you are!"