one, he had not the slightest doubt.
But, as will be seen, he reckoned without Mr. Allan.

He wrote Mrs. Allan a dutiful letter, confessing all and expressing his
sorrow, and begging to be permitted to repay Mr. Allan for settling his
affairs at the University with work as a clerk in the counting house.

The letter filled the tender heart of the foster-mother with yearning.
The sum frightened her, though she, like the boy, comforted herself with
the thought that her husband could pay it without embarrassment. Still,
she trembled to think of his wrath. Her chief feeling was one of
sympathy for her erring, penitent boy. How natural it was for one of his
age to be led away by evil associates! All boys--she supposed--must sow
some wild oats, though few, she was confident, showed such a beautifully
penitent spirit, and it would be a small matter in future years when he
should have become the great and good man she knew he was going to be.

How noble it was of him to offer to give up or postpone the completion
of the education so dear to his heart and tie himself to a desk in that
tiresome counting-house in order to pay his debts--he that was born to
shine as a poet. She exulted that he had offered to make such a
sacrifice, but he should never make it, never while _she_ had breath in
her body to protest!

How her heart bled for him in his sorrow over his wrong-doing! How she
longed to fold his dear curly head against her breast and tell him that
he was quite, quite forgiven! She would reward him for the splendid
stand in his classes and at the same time make him forget his troubles
on account of the debts by giving him the loveliest imaginable
Christmas. Uncle Billy must search the woods for the brightest greens,
the prettiest holly; for the house must look its merriest for the
home-coming of its young master, covered with honors! There must be
mistletoe, too she told herself, her mouth dimpling and a suspicion of a
twinkle flashing out from under her dewy lashes. The fatted calf should
be killed, her boy should make merry with his friends.

The dear letter was kissed and cried over until it took much smoothing
on her knee to make it presentable to hand over to her husband for
perusal. Her fingers were still busy stroking out the crumples, though
her tears were dried, and her thoughts were happily engaged with plans
for a Christmas party worthy to celebrate the home-coming of her
darling, when Mr. Allan came in to supper.