ispleased with you."

"Yes, sir, of course you are," said the boy seriously. "I don't wonder
at it."

Dr Grayson bit his lip.

"Are you going to cane me?"

"Wait and see, sir. Now, first thing, you go up to your room and wash
your hands, and dress yourself properly. Then come down to me."

Dexter glanced at Helen, but she kept her eyes averted, and the boy went
slowly out, keeping his gaze fixed upon her all the time.

"A young scamp!" said the doctor, as soon as they were alone. "I'm
afraid I shall have to send him back."

Helen looked at him.

"I expected him to be a little wild," continued the doctor; "but he is
beyond bearing. What do you say, my dear? Too bad, is he not?"

Helen was silent for a few moments.

"It is too soon to say that, papa," she replied at last. "There is a
great deal in the boy that is most distasteful, but, on the other hand,
I cannot help liking the little fellow."

"Yes; that's just it," cried the doctor. "I feel as if I should like to
give him a sound thrashing, but, at the same time, I feel that I could
not raise a hand against him. What's to be done? Shall I send him
back, and choose another?"

"No, no, papa. If you intend to adopt a boy, let us keep this one, and
see what he turns out."

Just then the bell rang for lunch, and a minute after Dexter came
running down into the room, with a smile, as if nothing was the matter,
shining out of his eyes.

"I say, wasn't that the dinner-bell?" he cried. "I am so precious
hungry."

"And have you no apologies to make, sir? Aren't you sorry you were so
mischievous, and broke the top of my vinery?"

"Yes; I'm very sorry, sir; but it was that old chap's fault. He made me
run and slip. I say, what would he have done if he had caught me?"

"Punished you, or brought you in to me, sir. Now, then, I've been
talking about sending you back to the workhouse. You are too
mischievous for me."

"Send me back!"

"Yes, of course. I want a boy who will be good."

"Well, I will."

"So you said before, but you are not good. You are about as mischievous
a young rascal as I ever saw in my life."

"Yes, sir; that's what Mr Sibery used to say," replied the boy quietly.
"I don't want to be."

"Then why are you, sir?"

The boy shook his head, and looked up at the doctor thoughtfully.

"I suppose it's in me," he said.

Helen bit her lip, and turned away, while her father gave his head a
fierce rub, as if he was extreme