Such were his cogitations as he sat alone in the veranda, after the Ion carriage had driven away.  “What shall I do?” he asked himself, “what shall I do to recover their good opinion?”

Just then Walter appeared before him, looking crestfallen and angry.

“I say, Cal, it’s bad enough for you to have thrashed me as you did, without bringing mother and Aunt Enna, and maybe grandfather too, down on me about those wretched masks and things; so give ’em up and let Dick and me put ’em back before they get home.”

“Of course put them back as fast as you can; pity you hadn’t let them alone,” said Calhoun, rising and with a quick step leading the way toward the nursery, “and,” he added, “we must see what we can do to keep the young ones from blabbing; else putting them back will help your case very little.”

“Oh we’ll never be able to do that!” exclaimed Walter, despairingly, “one or another of ’em is sure to let it out directly.  And there come the folks now,” as the rolling of wheels was heard in the avenue.  “It’s of no use; they’ll know all about it in five minutes.”

“Yes, sir, you and Dick have got yourselves into a fine box, beside all the trouble you’ve made for other people,” said Calhoun angrily.  Then laying his hand on Walter’s arm as he perceived that he was meditating flight, “No, sir, stay and face the music like a man; don’t add cowardice to all the rest of it.”

They heard the clatter of little feet running through the house and out upon the veranda, the carriage draw up before the door, then the voices of the children pouring out the story of their fright, and the punishment of its authors, and the answering tones of their grandfather and the ladies; Mr. Dinsmore’s expressing surprise and indignation, Enna’s full of passion, and Mrs. Conly’s of cold displeasure.

“Let go o’ me! they’re coming this way,” cried Walter, trying to wrench himself free.

But the inexorable Calhoun only tightened his grasp and dragged him on to the nursery.

Dick was there trying to pick the lock of the closet door with his pocket knife.

“What are you about, sir?  No more mischief to-day, if you please,” exclaimed Calhoun, seizing him with the free hand, the other having enough to do to hold Walter.

“Give me that key then,” cried Dick, vainly struggling to shake off his cousin’s strong grip.

The words were hardly on the boy’s tongue, when the door was thrown open, and Mr. Dinsmore and his daughters entered hastily, followed by the whole crowd of younger children.

“Give you the key indeed!  I’d like to know how you got hold of mine, and how you dared to make use of it as you have, you young villain!  There, take that, and that and that!  Hold him fast, Cal, till I give him a little of what he deserves,” cried Mrs. Johnson, rushing upon her son, in a towering passion, and cuffing him right and left with all her strength.