"Indeed it is. Listen to me, Jack." (I looked at him impressively. He
returned the look, for Jack was earnest as well as gay.) "You know that
my dear father positively refused to let me go abroad, although I have
entreated him to do so again and again. Now I think that's hard, you
know. I love my dear father very much, but--"

"You love yourself better. Is that it?"

"Well, put it so if you choose. I don't care. I'm going to run away,
and if you won't go with me you can stay at home--that's all."

"Come, come, Bob, don't be cross," said Jack, kindly; "you know you
don't mean it."

"But I do; and I'm sure I don't see what it is that prevents you from
going too," said I, testily.

"H'm! well, there is a small matter, a sort of moral idea, so to speak,
that prevents."

"And what is that?"

"Respect for my mother! Bob, my boy, I've been too deeply imbued with
that in my babyhood to shake it off now, even if I wished to do so; but
I don't, Bob, I don't. I'm proud of my mother, and, moreover, I
remember her teachings. There's one little verse I used to repeat to
her every Sunday night, along with the rest of the ten commandments,
`Honour thy father and thy mother,' etcetera. It seems to me that
running away is rather flying in the face of that. Doesn't it strike
you in that light, Bob?"

I was silent. I felt that I had no argument against such reasoning.
Jack rose.

"It's late, Bob; we are to start on our fishing expedition to-morrow
morning at six, so it behoves us to get into bed. Good-night! and think
over it!"

I seized his hand and pressed it warmly.

"Good-night, Jack, I will!"

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 2.

My bedroom was a small one, with little furniture in it. A small iron
stove in the fire-place acted instead of a grate, and as I was
accustomed to read late my father allowed me to light it in cold
weather. It was blazing cheerfully when Jack left me, and the bright
gleams of ruddy light that darted through the chinks of the door and
fell on the opposite wall, threw the light of my solitary candle quite
into the shade.

I have already remarked that the night was dark and dismal. In addition
to that, it was stormy. The wind moaned drearily among the venerable
elms that surrounded our quiet country residence, and ever and anon came
in sharp, fitful gusts that caused the window-frames to rattle, and even
shook the house, at times, to its foundation. Heavy drops of rain fell
occas