im straight to bed. He'll be all right
in the morning," said Mr. West.

Nurse obeyed, looking much aggrieved. Bending over the sleeping child
she murmured: "What with my ale and his father's drops, the boy's drunk.
Poor little fellow! he'll make his mark, as they're so fond of saying,
but I'm afraid it will be a very black one. But I'll take no more blame
to myself, for Master Roland shall never see me touch my ale again; not
for missis's sake, though," added the girl with a dark look.

Ten years went by, and again Mr. West entertained the same friend at his
well-spread table.

"What has become of that fine little fellow of yours, West? Roland, I
think you called him," inquired the guest, looking round the table and
missing from amongst the youthful faces the one that had struck his
fancy years ago.

"The young scamp's just finishing his schooldays," answered the father.

"He's been making his mark, I quite expect; no one could help observing
the boy had splendid capabilities. Do you still think of making a lawyer
of him?" continued the visitor.

"I don't know what to do with him; I'm fairly puzzled. It's true enough,
as you say, he has splendid capabilities, and might become anything he
chose; but he settles to nothing, and as for making his mark at school,
he's done it with a vengeance."

Mrs. West frowned from the bottom of the table, but Mr. West took no
notice, and continued:

"His education and his private bills have cost me a pretty penny."

"Private bills! What has a school-boy to do with private bills?" asked
the guest.

"Oh, bills for champagne suppers and cigars, on the sly, of course; the
young rascal says the other fellows do it, and he must, and I've had to
pay the piper. I told him last term he would have to stop his
extravagance and settle to hard work, but he seems in no way inclined to
do that, and I've had more than one complaint of him from
head-quarters."

"Well, papa, Roland's only a boy yet, and we mustn't expect him to be as
wise as his father," expostulated Mrs. West, in a tone of irritation.

"No, my dear, we must not and do not, but when I was his age----"

"You were perfect, of course," finished Mrs. West; "pray find some other
topic of conversation than the little weaknesses of your son."

"Little weaknesses!" Ah! thus had Roland's grave faults and his early
tendencies to evil courses been glossed over by the false kindness of a
fond parent, until now, at the early age of si