Stephanie lost hope, and even cheery Mr. Collinson
could give her little comfort in this strait. "He's sure to come back,
my dear," he said to her often, "stout and wiry and very penitent; some
day soon when we least expect it. He's got tired of civilisation and
has gone off picnicking in the forest with Peter for a while, the young
rascal. Don't you worry, lassie, he 'll come back."

Stephanie would try to smile in answer to show how little she was
troubled; but her eyes would stray to the great woods, and her grave,
pale young face would quiver tearfully now and then. Whereupon Roger
would always retreat, and rage in a fury of work and a fever of wrath
among the farm buildings, to the silent distress of William Charles,
and the great anxiety of his mother. The farmer had carefully schooled
himself to view the matter in its best light--and indeed there were
many and great excuses for Dick--but sometimes even he meditated upon
the probable consequences of finding himself confronting the runaways
with a stout cane or sapling in his hand. Yet, in spite of all, he was
as fond of Dick as ever, ungrateful though the lad had shown himself to
be; and he would no more have thought of casting him off as a result of
his folly than he would have thought of casting off one of his own boys
in punishment for some thoughtless error. He felt that Dick's dreamy
nature and inherited tastes had scarcely given him a fair chance in
fighting that temptation which Peter Many-Names had personified. But
he was very angry and even more disappointed.

And Stephanie? Stephanie felt that she could have borne her grief and
anxiety, as she had already borne much sorrow. But there was a more
bitter sting in her trouble than this. She was utterly humiliated.
She had relied on Dick's affection for herself, but above all upon his
gratitude and sense of honour. And to find that he could thus requite
the man who had been such a friend to them was a bitter blow.

Perhaps she underrated the influences which had been brought to bear
upon Dick's resolution, understanding little the gipsy strain that
moved him, and knowing nothing of the ways of Peter Many-Names. Be
that as it may, poor Stephanie felt for a long time that, while she had
love and forgiveness for her brother in plenty, she could have little
trust or pride in him. "I don't think I should mind anything," she
said once to Mrs. Collinson, "if only I could see Dick well and safe
and co