t we must only make up for his deficiences by keeping a
tight hand, as I said before, upon this unhappy boy."

"Yes, but not _too_ tight, Priscilla; that might only create a
rebellious feeling and destroy all our chances of success. And we are
bent on leading this poor dear boy (poor Katherine's boy, Priscilla)
into the way of truth."

"Yes, yes; we must be cautious, _most_ cautious, in our treatment," says
Miss Priscilla, nervously, "and very careful of his comings and goings,
without _appearing_ to be so! Dear me! dear me! I wonder if the
greatness of our cause justifies so much deceit. It sounds jesuitical,
my dear Penelope, say what we can."

"The end justifies the means," says Miss Penelope, as solemnly as if
this speech emanated from her throat as an original remark.

"Oh, don't! my dear Penelope!" says Miss Priscilla, with a shudder;
"that is _their_ principal argument."

"Whose? The children's?" asks Miss Penelope, startled.

"No; the Jesuits,--the Inquisitors,--those dreadful people we read of in
'Westward Ho,'" says Miss Priscilla, protestingly. "Still, I agree with
you; secrecy is the part we have to play. We must keep one eye" (as if
there was only one between them) "upon him without _seeming_ to do so.
And there he is,"--pointing through the window to where Terence may be
seen coming slowly towards the window in which they stand in a most
unhappy frame of mind.

"I wonder where he can have been for the past half-hour," says Miss
Priscilla presently, in a nervous whisper, though Terence is so far off
that if she spoke at the top of her lungs he could not have heard her.

"Perhaps if we ask him he may tell us," says Miss Penelope, equally
nervous and decidedly with great doubt as to the success of her
suggestion.

"Well, you ask him," says Miss Priscilla.

"I am greatly wanting in _force_ on occasions such as these," says Miss
Penelope, hurriedly. "No, no, my dear; you ask him. But be gentle with
him, my dear Priscilla."

"Why can't _you_ do it?" persists Miss Blake, plainly anxious to shift
the obnoxious task from her own shoulders to another's. "You have great
influence with the children, I have remarked many times."

"Nothing to _yours_," says Miss Penelope, with an agitated wave of her
hand. "I couldn't do it; indeed I _couldn't_, my dear Priscilla," openly
quaking. "Don't ask me. See, here he comes! Now be firm,--be _firm_,
Priscilla, but lenient, _very_ lenient: he is only a boy, remember,