his father intended to do. He was really sorry for what
he had done, whether his sorrow was caused by a genuine feeling that he
had done wrong, or by the fear of punishment.

His mind was in a confused state; the past with its sorrows, and the
future with its terrors, whirled through his brain. He wanted time for
reflection, and leaving the house, he walked down to the pier to
deliberate upon the situation.

Ben was there, and Richard began to question him, for Mr. Presby had
intimated that the boatman was with him the night before. From him he
learned all the facts in regard to their movements. It appeared that
the old gentleman had heard Richard when he opened the window, and had
watched him closely, fully satisfied, however, that he was asleep.

When Mr. Presby, from the roof of the conservatory, had noted the
direction he took, he had closed the window, and called the boatman to
assist him. They had followed him in the large sail boat, and landed
near the point where Sandy was taken on board the Greyhound. By this
time, Ben's original idea that Richard was wide awake was adopted by
Mr. Presby. By the exercise of great skill and caution, they had kept
near the boys, and had put out the fire almost as soon as it was
kindled.

While they were still on the ground, Mr. Batterman, who had been
awakened by the bright light of the burning hay, made his appearance.
He found the two old men in the very act of putting out the fire. Mr.
Presby smothered the flames by throwing his great-coat upon it.

"Now, Mr. Richard," continued the boatman, "Mr. Presby saved you. He
was acquainted with Batterman, and has a mortgage on his farm. The
farmer suspected who had attempted to burn his building; he laid it to
you at once, and told us all about the scrape when you stole the
melons. You don't know how mad he was, Mr. Richard. But Mr. Presby made
it all right with him, and he promised not to prosecute. Mr. Richard,
you had better not walk in your sleep any more."

Richard did not like this last remark, and he walked down the pier. The
state prison was only a bugbear then; but his father meant to do
something. He was about to get into his skiff to visit the Greyhound
when Ben hailed him.

"My orders are, not to let you have any of the boats," said he.

The new order of things had begun, and he returned to the house. His
father was in the sitting room when he entered.

"Richard," said Mr. Grant, "to-morrow you will leave home fo