he baby himself. His frock perfect tinder! He would have been
burned to a cinder, if I had not come in!"

Aubrey roared afresh, and Dr. May, kissing and comforting him, gathered
him up in his left arm, and carried him away, looking back at the door
to say, "There's no bearing it! I'll put a stop to all schools and
Greek, if it is to lead to this, and make you good for nothing!"

Ethel was too much terrified to know where she was, or anything,
but that she had let her little brother run into fearful peril, and
grievously angered her father; she was afraid to follow him, and stood
still, annihilated, and in despair, till roused by his return; then,
with a stifled sob, she exclaimed, "Oh, papa!" and could get no further
for a gush of tears.

But the anger of the shock of terror was over, and Dr. May was sorry
for her tears, though still he could not but manifest some displeasure.
"Yes, Ethel," he said, "it was a frightful thing," and he could not
but shudder again. "One moment later! It is an escape to be for ever
thankful for--poor little fellow!--but, Ethel, Ethel, do let it be a
warning to you."

"Oh, I hope--I'll try--" sobbed Ethel.

"You have said you would try before."

"I know I have," said Ethel, choked. "If I could but--"

"Poor child," said Dr. May sadly; then looking earnestly at her, "Ethel,
my dear, I am afraid of its being with you as--as it has been with me;"
he spoke very low, and drew her close to him. "I grew up, thinking
my inbred heedlessness a sort of grace, so to say, rather manly--the
reverse of finikin. I was spoiled as a boy, and my Maggie carried on the
spoiling, by never letting me feel its effects. By the time I had sense
enough to regret this as a fault, I had grown too old for changing of
ingrain, long-nurtured habits--perhaps I never wished it really. You
have seen," and his voice was nearly inaudible, "what my carelessness
has come to--let that suffice at least, as a lesson that may spare
you--what your father must feel as long as he lives."

He pressed his hand tightly on her shoulder, and left her, without
letting her see his face. Shocked and bewildered, she hurried upstairs
to Margaret. She threw herself on her knees, felt her arms round
her, and heard her kind soothing, and then, in broken words, told how
dreadful it had been, and how kind papa had been, and what he had said,
which was now the uppermost thought. "Oh, Margaret, Margaret, how very
terrible it is! And does papa