Mary, meantime, dreadfully alarmed, and perceiving that, in some way, she was the cause, had thrown herself upon Margaret, sobbing inconsolably, as she begged to know what was the matter, and why papa was angry with Tom--had she made him so?
Margaret caressed and soothed her to the best of her ability, trying to persuade her that, if Tom had done wrong, it was better for him it should be known, and assuring her that no one could think her unkind, nor a tell-tale; then dismissing her to bed, and Mary was not unwilling to go, for she could not bear to meet Tom again, only begging in a whisper to Ethel, "that, if dear Tom had not done it, she would come and tell her." "I am afraid there is no hope of that!" sighed Ethel, as the door closed on Mary.
"After all," said Flora, "he has not said anything.

If he has only done it, and not confessed, that is not so bad--it is only the usual fashion of boys." "Has he been asked?
Did he deny it ?" said Ethel, looking in Norman's face, as if she hardly ventured to put the question, and she only received sorrowful signs as answers.

At the same moment Dr.May called him.

No one spoke.

Margaret rested her head on the sofa, and looked very mournful, Richard stood by the fire without moving limb or feature, Flora worked fast, and Ethel leaned back on an arm-chair, biting the end of a paper-knife.
The doctor and Norman came back together.