seen the
watching face, and a manful spirit of defiance on the one hand, of
passion on the other, moved him to show both Carrie and his mother how
things were going with him.

Seizing the girl round the waist when her little spurt of defiance was
scarcely over, he held her head with his disengaged hand and pressed
upon her eyes, her cheeks and her lips a dozen hot kisses.

"There!" said he, when at last he let her go, and she, staggering,
blushing, ran toward the shelter of the house. "That's what you get for
being ungrateful, you little cat. And it's nothing to what you'll get
from my mother, who's sure to say it's all your fault. And so--" roared
he up the stairs after her, as she reached the top, "so it is, of
course!"

But Carrie found a refuge inside the sick-room, where Dudley, who had
passed a better night than they had even hoped, was now lying with
closed eyes, quiet and apparently calm.

It was upon Max himself, for a wonder, that the vials of the family
wrath were poured. Mrs. Wedmore, happening to meet her husband while the
last grievance against the girl was fresh, and before she had had the
time to meditate on the result of a premature disclosure, made known to
him the outrage of which she had been a witness, taking care to dwell
upon the audacity of the girl in pursuing and provoking Max.

Mr. Wedmore listened in silence, and then said, curtly:

"Where is he now? Send him to me."

Max, bent upon making himself as conspicuous and, therefore, as
offensive as possible, was whistling in the hall at the moment. And
there was a defiant note in his very whistling which worked his father
up to boiling point. Mr. Wedmore sprang off his chair and dashed open
the door.

"Max, you fool, come here!" was his unpromising summons.

Max came at once, rather red in the face and bright of eyes. Mrs.
Wedmore, standing, frightened and anxious, in the background, thought
she had never seen her darling boy look so handsome, so manly. He came
in very quietly, without swaggering, without defiance, as if he had not
noticed the offensive epithet.

His father, who was by this time on the post of vantage, the hearth-rug,
with his hands behind him and his back to the fire, pointed imperiously
to a chair.

"Sit down, sir."

Max sat down very deliberately on a chair other than the one his father
had chosen for him, and looked down on the floor.

"So you are at your old tricks, your old habits!" began Mr. Wedmore.

Max