er."

"Oh, will you?... Well, before you train horses you've got to train
yourself. Think of others beside yourself. A fine state you've put your
mother into to-night."

Jeremy looked distressed. "She'd know if I was dead, someone would come
and tell her," he said. "But I'll tell Mother I'm sorry... But I won't
tell Father," he added.

"Why not?" asked Uncle Samuel.

"Because he'll make such a fuss. And I'm not sorry. He never told me not
to."

"No, but you knew you hadn't to."

"I'm very good at obeying," explained Jeremy, "if someone says
something; but if someone doesn't, there isn't anyone to obey."

Uncle Samuel shook his head. "You'll be a bit of a prig, my son, if you
aren't careful," he said.

"I think it will be splendid to be a horse-trainer," said Jeremy. "It
was a lovely horse to-night... And I only spent a shilling. I had three
and threepence halfpenny."

At the door of their house Uncle Samuel stopped and said:

"Look here, young man, they say it's time you went to school, and I
don't think they're far wrong. There are things wiser heads than yours
can understand, and you'd better take their word for it. In the future,
if you want to go running off somewhere, you'd better content yourself
with my studio and make a mess there."

"Oh, may I?" cried Jeremy delighted.

That studio had been always a forbidden place to them, and had,
therefore, its air of enchanting mystery.

"Won't you really mind my coming?" he asked.

"I shall probably hate it," answered his uncle; "but there's nothing I
wouldn't do for the family."

The boy walked to his father's study and knocked on the door. He did
have then, at the sound of that knock, a moment of panic. The house
was so silent, and he knew so well what would follow the opening of the
door. And the worst of it was that he was not sorry in the least. He
seemed to be indifferent and superior, as though no punishment could
touch him.

"Come in!" said his father.

He pushed open the door and entered. The scene that followed was grave
and sad, and yet, in the end, strangely unimpressive. His father
talked too much. As he talked Jeremy's thoughts would fly back to the
coal-black horse and to that moment when he had seemed to fly into the
very heart of the stars.

"Ah, Jeremy, how could you?" said his father. "Is obedience nothing to
you? Do you know how God punishes disobedience? Think what a terrible
thing is a disobedient man!" Then on a lower scale: