too much of a man-not to say, of a Christianto deny the truth, and tell a lie, for fear of Mr. Andrewes, or any one else."

And Mr. Eggar was proceeding further to justify Frank, and prove his innocence, when Ruth interrupted him.

“But, Mr. Eggar, you have not told us what has happened. What-"

"Just this," replied the schoolmaster," it might not be of much consequence under other circumstances; but I am afraid that, happening as it does, it will lose Frank his place. He goes up to the houses this morning, and the first thing he sees is old Andrewes' prize geraniums, that he was going to send over to the Beverton flower-show, broken to pieces,-every flower snapped short off. Frank left them all right enough last night. He told me himself, when he came home, that they were a perfect sight, and that I must go up and have a look at them before they went away,- and that is all he knows about them. What Andrewes will say you can pretty well guess, for you know, as well as I do, what sort of a man he is; and he had just set his heart upon those flowers. He was greatly vexed at having to leave. He told me just before he started, that if it were not for young Elston's being a trustworthy sort of fellow, he should not know a moment's peace. For,' said

I was

he, I'm sure of the premium this year. vexed enough to lose it last time; but I'm safe with those new geraniums. I expect there will be some will open their eyes when they see them.'

"And when will he know?" asked Ruth. "When is he coming back? and who will tell him?"

"He comes back to-morrow," replied Mr. Eggar; " and I mean to tell him myself. Frank says he is going to tell him, himself, as soon as he gets to the gardens. But I shall be beforehand with him, and meet him at the station, that I may just let him know my mind about Frank, and how much blame he deserves."

"Oh, that is right!" said Ruth; "of course he will be very angry,—it takes so very little to make him angry, and this is such a great deal; but I hope you will get him to listen to reason."

"Not much chance of that, I fear," replied Eggar; "at all events, he won't listen to it time enough to prevent his giving Frank a good deal of very undeserved abuse, and, I fancy, dismissing him. It generally takes four or five days before you can get Andrewes to listen to reason of any sort,—even when his feelings are not so much concerned as they will be about these flowers. But I will do my best, you may be sure, for he is a good lad, and deserves it. And as for my wife, I don't think she

could take on more about it if he were her own son."

Mr. Eggar was willing enough to go on talking, and was evidently very glad to find listeners to his praises of Frank Elston; but Mr. Chester called Ruth's attention to the fact that it was getting very late, and they must hasten on.

"Are you not sorry, father?" was Ruth's first question, after they had wished the schoolmaster good night, and were driving homewards.

"Very sorry, indeed, Ruth!" he answered. "It was I who engaged that young man, five years ago, when the Steward was away; and I have often thought since that he was the best servant we have ever had on the place. I have taken a particular interest in him, and should be very sorry to see him turned away in disgrace."

"You don't believe he had anything to do with it?" was Ruth's next question. "I mean, you don't believe he broke the flowers by accident, and then said he knew nothing about it? I am sure he never would have done such a thing!"

"Well, I should think not,” replied Mr. Chester; "but it looks queer. What pleasure could any one take in such a piece of pure mischief as that?unless, indeed, it was some one who had a spite against him, and I should not think that was the

case. The lad is very much liked, I think, and very much respected, too."

They drove on in silence. Both the father and the daughter were turning over in their minds the piece of news which they had just heard; but their reflections were leading them to very different conclusions. Mr. Chester was beginning to think that, after all, it must be Frank who, by some carelessness, had destroyed the flowers-who else but he could have done it? Ruth was feeling more and more convinced, each step they took towards home, that it was utterly impossible Frank could have been so wicked or so mean as to conceal the truth.

At length the silence was broken by Ruth's asking her father a third question :

"Don't you think, father, you could do something for him?"

"What, for young Elston, do you mean?"

66

Yes, father, it was you who engaged him, you know, father, and you have always been kind to him, and asked him to our house; and, perhaps, now, if you were to say a good word for him, it might do good."

"There is nothing to say, Ruth, that I see. I can only say that I have always known him to be steady and high-principled, and have had a good

opinion of him; and there is no use in my saying what everybody knows already. Besides, the more I think of it, the more unlikely it seems to me that any one but young Elston should have destroyed those flowers. And if he has been making up a story to hide the truth, why, then, he deserves to suffer for it."

"Oh, but he has not, father! I'm sure he has not!"

"You can't be sure about it, Ruth. How are you to know whether he has or not? It's foolish to talk like that."

For the first time, perhaps, in her life, Ruth thought her father harsh. She said no more; but her opinion remained unchanged. She felt sure that, whoever had done it, or however it had been done, if Frank said he had nothing to do with it, then he had nothing to do with it. If Frank had known that this was Ruth's opinion, a partand that no light part-of the burden which weighed upon his heart that night would have been removed. For, as he lay awake in the lonely night hours, one of the most painful feelings that oppressed his mind was laid there by the question which would arise continually,-" What will Ruth think of me?"