He paused, and there was a moment of profound silence.

“Who was nearest to Elsie when she fell?” he asked; “can any one tell me?”

“Arthur, sir,” replied several voices.

Another pause.

“Who else was near her?” he asked.  “Miss Carrie Howard, I have noticed that you and Elsie are usually together; can you tell me if she could have fallen of herself?  Were you near enough to see?”

Carrie answered reluctantly:  “Yes, sir; I had stepped from her side at the moment she stooped to pick up something, and feel quite certain that she was not near enough to the edge to have fallen of herself.”

“Thank you for your frank reply.  And now, Master Harry Carrington, I think I heard some one say you were quite close to Arthur at the time of Elsie’s fall; can you tell me what he did to her?  You will confer a great favor by answering with equal frankness.”

“I would much rather have been excused from saying anything, sir,” replied Harry, coloring and looking as if he wished himself a thousand miles away; “but since you request it, I will own that I was close to Arthur, and think he must have pushed Elsie in springing past her, but it may have been only an accident.”

“I fear not,” said the old gentleman, looking sternly at his son.  “And now, does any one know that Elsie had vexed Arthur in any way, or that he had any unkind feelings toward her?”

“Yes, papa,” Walter spoke up suddenly.  “I heard Arthur, the other day, talking very crossly about Elsie, and threatening to pay her for something; but I didn’t understand what.”

Mr. Dinsmore’s frown was growing darker, and Arthur began to tremble and turn pale.  He darted a fierce glance at Walter, but the little fellow did not see it.

“Does any one know what Elsie had done?” was the next question.

No one spoke, and Herbert fidgeted and grew very pale.  Mr. Horace Dinsmore noticed it, and begged him if he knew anything to tell it at once; and Herbert reluctantly repeated what he had already told his mother of the conversation in the woods; and as he concluded, Lora drew a note from her pocket, which she handed to her father, saying that she had picked it up in the school-room, from a pile of rubbish which Arthur had carelessly thrown out of his desk.

Mr. Dinsmore took it, glanced hastily over the contents, and with a groan, exclaimed:  “Is it possible!—­a gambler already!  Arthur, has it really come to this?

“Go to your room, sir,” he added, sternly, “there to remain in solitary confinement until arrangement can be made to send you to school at a distance from the home which shall be no longer polluted by your presence; for you are unworthy to mingle with the rest of the family.”

Arthur obeyed in sullen silence, and his father, following, turned the key upon him, and left him to solitude and his own reflections.

“Did my little daughter think papa had quite forgotten his promise?” asked Mr. Horace Dinsmore, as again he stood by Elsie’s couch.