ng, he drew
himself up in military fashion, and marched slowly across the room and
back, with his broad-skirted scarlet and gold uniform coat, white
breeches, and high boots, and hand resting upon his sword hilt, and
looking the beau ideal of an officer of the King's Guards.

"There, have I been weak enough, Frank?" he said, stopping in front of
his son, and laying his hands affectionately upon his shoulders. "All
show, my boy. When you've worn it as long as I have, you will think as
little of it; but it is quite natural for it to attract a boy like you.
But now sit down and tell me a little about how you spend your time. I
find that you have quite taken up with Andrew Forbes. His father
promised me that the lad should try and be companionable to you. Forbes
is an old friend of mine still, though he is in disgrace at court. How
do you get on with Andrew? Like him?"

"Oh, very much, father."

"Well, don't like him too much, my boy. Lads of your age are rather too
ready to make idols of showy fellows a year or two older, and look up to
them and imitate them, when too often the idol is not of such good stuff
as the worshipper. So you like him?"

"Yes, father."

"Kind and helpful to you?"

"Oh, very."

"Well, what is it?"

"What is what, father?"

"That cloudy look on your face. Why, Frank, I've looked at you so often
that I can read it quite plainly. Why, you've been quarrelling with
Andrew Forbes!"

"Oh no, father; we're the best of friends."

"Then what is it, Frank? You are keeping something back."

Sir Robert spoke almost sternly, and the son shrank from gazing in the
fine, bold, questioning eyes.

"I knew it," said Sir Robert. "What is it, boy? Speak out."

It was the firm officer talking now, and Frank felt his breath come
shorter as his heart increased the speed of its pulsations.

"Well, sir, I am waiting. Why don't you answer?"

"I can't, father."

"Can't? I thought my boy always trusted his father, as he trusts his
son. There, out with it, Frank. The old saying, my lad. The truth may
be blamed, but can never be shamed. What is it--some scrape? There,
let's have it, and get it over. Always come to me, my boy. We are none
of us perfect, so let there be no false shame. If you have done wrong,
come to me and tell me like a man. If it means punishment, that will
not be one hundredth part as painful to you as keeping it back and
forfeiting my confidence in my dear wife's