right," said Norman, "but for July to be turned
back when we are taken, makes me think of man judging only by outward
appearance."

"A few outrageous-looking acts of giddiness that are so much grieved
over, may not be half so bad as the hundreds of wandering thoughts that
one forgets, because no one else can see them!" said Ethel.

Meanwhile, Harry and Mary were sitting twisted together into a sort of
bundle, on the same footstool, by Margaret's sofa. Harry had begged of
her to hear him say the Catechism once more, and Mary had joined with
him in the repetition. There was to be only one more Sunday at home.
"And that!" he said, and sighed.

Margaret knew what he meant, for the Feast was to be spread for those
newly admitted to share it. She only said a caressing word of affection.

"I wonder when I shall have another chance," said Harry. "If we should
get to Australia, or New Zealand--but then, perhaps, there would be no
Confirmation going on, and I might be worse by that time."

"Oh, you must not let that be!"

"Why, you see, if I can't be good here, with all this going on, what
shall I do among those fellows, away from all?"

"You will have one friend!"

"Mr. Ernescliffe! You are always thinking of him, Margaret; but perhaps
he may not go, and if he should, a lieutenant cannot do much for a
midshipman. No, I thought, when I was reading with my father, that
somehow it might help me to do what it called putting away childish
things--don't you know? I might be able to be stronger and steadier,
somehow. And then, if--if--you know, if I did tumble overboard, or
anything of that sort, there is that about the--what they will go to
next Sunday, being necessary to salvation."

Harry laid down his head and cried; Margaret could not speak for tears;
and Mary was incoherently protesting against any notion of his falling
overboard.

"It is generally necessary, Harry," Margaret said at last--"not in
impossible cases."

"Yes if it had been impossible, but it was not; if I had not been a
mad goose all this time, but when a bit of fun gets hold of me, I can't
think. And if I am too bad for that, I am too bad for--for--and I shall
never see mamma again! Margaret, it almost makes me af--afraid to sail."

"Harry, don't, don't talk so!" sobbed Mary. "Oh, do come to papa, and
let us beg and pray. Take hold of my hand, and Margaret will beg too,
and when he sees how sorry you are, I am sure he will forgive, and let
you be con