ith it."

"So have I," said Piers. He swept it up with one hand as he spoke and
tossed it recklessly on to the blaze. "Come along, sir! We haven't
much time."

"Now what did you do that for?" demanded Sir Beverley, pausing. "Do you
want to set the house on fire? What did you do it for, Piers?"

"Because I was a fool," said Piers with sudden, curious vehemence. "A
damn fool sir, if you want to know. But it's done now. Let it burn!"

The paper flared fiercely and crumbled to ashes. Sir Beverley suffered
himself to be drawn away.

"You're a queer fellow, Piers," he said. "But, taking 'em altogether, I
should say there are a good many bigger fools in the world than you."

"Thank you, sir," said Piers.

CHAPTER III

DISCIPLINE

"Mrs. Denys, may I come in?" Jeanie Lorimer's small, delicate face peeped
round the door. "I've brought my French exercise to do," she said
half-apologetically. "I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind."

"Of course come in, dear child! I like to have you." The mother's help
paused in her rapid stitching to look up with a smile at the pretty,
brown-haired child. "Come close to the light!" she said. "I hope it isn't
a very long one; is it?"

"It is--rather," Jeanie sighed a sharp, involuntary sigh. "I ought to
have done it sooner, but I was busy with the little ones. Is that
Gracie's frock you're mending? What an awful tear!" She came and stood by
Mrs. Denys's side, speaking in a low, rather monotonous voice. A heavy
strand of her hair fell over the work as she bent to look; she tossed it
back with another sigh. "Gracie is such a tomboy," she said. "It's a
pity, isn't it?"

"My dear, you're tired," said Mrs. Denys gently. She put a motherly arm
about the slim body that leaned against her, looking up into the pale
young face with eyes of kindly criticism.

"A little tired," said Jeanie.

"I shouldn't do that exercise to-night if I were you," said Mrs. Denys.
"You will find it easier in the morning. Lie down on the sofa here and
have a little rest till supper time!"

"Oh no, I mustn't," said Jeanie. "Father will never let any of us go to
bed till the day's work is done."

"But surely, when you're really tired--" began Mrs. Denys.

But Jeanie shook her head. "No; thank you very much, I must do it. Olive
did hers long ago."

"Where is Olive?" asked Mrs. Denys.

"She's reading a story-book downstairs. We may always read when we've
finished our lessons." Again came that short, unco