reparations for Geoff's breakfast were only half ready. It was a
very chilly day; and as the boy sat down by the table, leaning his head
on his hands, he shivered both with cold and unhappiness.

"They all hate me," he said to himself. "I've known it for a long time,
but I've never been so sure of it before. It is much the best for me to
go away. Mamma _has_ cared for me; but they're making her leave off, and
they'll set her entirely against me. She'll be far better and happier
without me; and when she gets well--I dare say they have exaggerated her
illness--they will have the pleasure of saying it's because I'm gone.
There's only Vic who'll really care. But she won't mind so very much,
either. I'll write to her now and then. I must think how best to do
about going away. I hate the sea; there's no use thinking of that. I
don't mind what I do, if it's in the country. I might go down to some
farmhouse--one of those jolly farms where Dick and I used to get a glass
of milk last summer. I wouldn't mind a bit, working on one of those
farms. It would be much jollier than grinding away at school. And I am
sure Dick and I did as much work as any haymakers last summer."

He had worked himself up into positively looking forward to the idea of
leaving home. Vague ideas of how his mother and sisters would learn too
late how little they had appreciated him; visions of magnanimously
forgiving them all some day when he should have, in some mysterious way,
become a landed proprietor, riding about his fields, and of inviting
them all down into the country to visit him, floated before his brain.
He ate his breakfast with a very good appetite; and when Mr. Byrne
entered the room, he was surprised to see no look of sulkiness on the
boy's face; though, on the other hand, there were no signs of concern or
distress.

"Is he really _heartless_?" thought the old man, with a pang of
disappointment. "Am I mistaken in thinking the good material is there?"

"I want to talk to you, Geoff," he said. "You are early this morning.
You need not start for twenty minutes or more."

"Am I to understand you intend to prevent me seeing my mother, sir?"
said Geoff, in a peculiar tone.

Mr. Byrne looked at him rather sadly.

"It is not _I_ preventing it," he said. "The doctor has left his
orders."

"I understand," said Geoff, bitterly. "Well, it does not much matter.
Mother and the others are not likely to see much more of me."

The old gentleman looke