"You told me he was bad! I never thought he'd do such an awful thing!" Young Mathew fumbled at the door.

He had locked it outside in his efforts with the pass-key.

He was red, red to his ears--very red, but there was no escape.

He faced them--there was no good in facing the door.
They all stood aside and let him pass--a wordless gauntlet.
Diantha took the weeping Ilda to her room for the night.

Madam Weatherstone and Mrs.Weatherstone went down together.
"She must have encouraged him!" the older lady finally burst forth.
"She did not encourage him to enter her room, as you saw and heard," said Viva with repressed intensity.
"He's only a boy!" said his grandmother.
"She is only a child, a helpless child, a foreigner, away from home, untaught, unprotected," Viva answered swiftly; adding with quiet sarcasm--"Save for the shelter of the home!" They parted in silence..