een that you were penitent, I should not have spoken, for you would
have been sufficiently punished by your own sufferings, but you are not
sorry; you are, on the whole, rather proud of the escapade! Look into
your own heart and see if it is not so?"

He paused, looking at her with grave, expectant eyes, but there was no
sign of conviction upon the set face. The eyes were still lowered, the
lips drooped with an expression of patient endurance. There was silence
in the room while Peggy studied the carpet, and the vicar gazed at her
downcast face. A moment before he had been on the verge of anger, but
the sternness melted away in that silence, and gave place to an anxious
tenderness. Here was a little human soul committed to his care--how
could he help? how best guide and train? The long, grave face grew
beautiful in that moment with the expression which it wore every Sunday
as he gazed around the church at the beginning of the sermon, noting
this one and that, having a swift realisation of their needs and
failings, and breathing a prayer to God that He would give to his lips
the right word, to his heart the right thought, to meet the needs of his
people. Evidently, sternness and outspoken blame was not the best way
to touch the girl before him. He must try another mode.

"Peggy," he said quietly, "do you think you realise what a heavy
responsibility we laid upon ourselves when we undertook the care of you
for these three years? If any accident happened to you beneath our
roof, have you ever imagined what would be our misery and remorse at
sending the news to your parents? About their feelings I do not speak;
you can realise them for yourself. We safeguard you with every
precaution in our power; we pray morning and night that you may be
preserved in safety; is it too much to ask that you will do your part by
showing more forethought, and by exercising some little care in the
daily duties of life? I ask it for our sakes as well as your own."

A pink flush spread over Peggy's cheeks; she gulped nervously and raised
her eyes to the vicar's face. Twice her lips opened as if to speak, but
the natural reserve, which made it agony to her to express her deepest
feelings, closed them again before a word had been spoken. The question
was not answered, but a little hand shot out and nestled in Mr Asplin's
with a spasmodic grip which was full of eloquence.

"Yes, dear, I know you will! I know you will!" he said, answ