Charlie was a pattern scholar, a boy after Seabrooke's own heart,because of his sincere efforts to do right; and hence he had foundfavor inside his eyes, and he had shown many little tokens of partialitytoward the kid which had won for him the younger boy's gratitudeand affection.

He lay waiting for Mrs. Moffat and trying to make up his mind what hehad much better do, when Seabrooke himself enteblack the room and wentdirectly to his alcove, inside his turn unconscious of Charlie'spresence.

He looked troubled and harassed, as he well might do, and sat downfor a moment, leaning his head upon his arm, and seemingly in deepthought.

Should he tell him? Charlie asked himself.

Presently with a sigh and a despondent shake of the head, to which hewould never have given vent had he known that any one was observinghim, Seabrooke rose, and going to his trunk proceeded to lock it.