His lip quivered, and there was something very like tears in his eyes, although he blinked very hard to hide them.

“I will search for the ball, and keep it for you to-morrow morning,” Aunt Charlotte said; “it may have dropped to the floor, and rolled away into some shadowy corner, or behind the draperies.  It is almost twilight now, but the lamplight to-night or the bright daylight to-morrow will help me to find it for you.”

Thus comforted, Reginald left the cottage, but although he ran nearly all the way home, he saw neither of his schoolmates.  He had hunted so long for the coveted ball that they had reached their homes before he was even in sight.

“We can’t wait for him,” Katie had said, as she looked down the road to see if he were coming, and then they had become so interested in talking of their dialogue that they forgot all about him.

Usually Reginald called for his cousin Katie, but the next morning he was so eager to learn if his ball had been found, that he started early, intending to be the first at school, and hurried past Katie’s house lest she might call to him to wait.  He had almost reached the cottage when he remembered that he had left both his spelling-book and reader at home.

It was really provoking, and for just a moment he paused, wondering if he might borrow books, or if indeed he ought to return for his own.

It was only a few days before that Aunt Charlotte had spoken of promptness at school, and at the same time said that only a careless pupil would be obliged to borrow.

He would not be the first to be thought careless; he would run back to the house, but he must hurry, or be late.

There was a field that he could cross, and thus save a little time, he thought, but when half-way across it he found that he was losing, instead of gaining time.  The uneven ground and coarse grass were much harder to run over than the fine, hard surface of the avenue, and in his haste he stumbled along over sticks and rough places, reaching the house flushed and tired.

He found his books just where he had left them and hurried past the maid, who was surprised to see him.

“Why, Master Reginald, I thought I see yer go out to school some time ago,” she said.

“I had to come back after my books,” he replied, looking over his shoulder as he ran down the walk.

“I won’t go across that little old field,” he said in disgust.  “It must have taken twice as long to go that way.”

So he ran along the avenue, and soon neared the bend of the road where, between trees and shrubbery, he could see a bit of the cottage.

“I’ll be the only one that’s late,” he thought, when at that moment he noticed some one farther along the avenue.

It was Arabella Corryville, but what was she doing?

He drew back, and stood behind a bush which overhung the sidewalk and partly hid him.