She made no further answer, but passed on with her husband to the tea-room.

But she ate nothing.

Dreamily rested her eyes on vacancy, as she sat at the table.

Her mind took no note of images pictured on the retina, for her thoughts were in another place, and with her inner vision she saw the sad form of her wronged and suffering child shrinking in the lone chamber where he had been banished.
"Shall I take Andrew some supper ?" she asked, as she arose, at length, from the table.
"He can have some bread and water," was coldly and briefly answered.
Will any one blame the mother, that she went beyond this?
A few minutes afterward she entered the room in which Andrew had been punished, bearing in her hands a small tray, on which was a cup of milk and water, some toast, and a piece of cake.

The twilight had already fallen, and dusky shadows had gathered so thickly that the eyes of Mrs.Howland failed to see her child on first entering the room.
"Andrew!" she called, in a low, tender voice.
But there was no reply.
"Andrew!" Still all remained silent.
More accustomed to the feeble light that pervaded the chamber, Mrs.
Howland now perceived her boy in a corner, sitting upon the floor, with his head reclining upon a low ottoman.