Max was riding without companion or attendant.  He had taken the direction of the village, but not with any thought of going there until, as he reached its outskirts, it occurred to him that he was nearly out of wood for carving, and that this would be a good opportunity for laying in a supply.

The only difficulty was that he had not asked leave before starting, and it was well understood that he was not at liberty to go anywhere—­visiting or shopping—­without permission.

“How provoking!” he exclaimed half aloud.  “I haven’t time to go back and ask leave, and a long storm may set in before to-morrow, and so my work be stopped for two or three days.  I’ll just go on, for what’s the difference, anyhow?  I’m almost there, and I know I’d have got leave if I’d only thought of asking.”

So on he went, made his purchase, and set off home with it.

He was rather late:  a storm seemed brewing, and as he rode up the avenue Violet was at the window looking out a little anxiously for him.

Mr. Dinsmore, hearing her relieved exclamation, “Ah, there he is!” came to her side as Max was in the act of dismounting.

“The boy has evidently been into the town making a purchase,” he said.  “Had he permission from you or any one, Violet?”

“Not from me, grandpa,” she answered with reluctance.

“Did you give him leave, Elsie?” he asked, turning to his daughter.  “Or you, wife?”

Both answered in the negative, and with a very stern countenance Mr. Dinsmore went out to the hall to meet the delinquent.

“Where have you been, Max?” he asked, in no honeyed accents.

“For a ride, sir,” returned the lad respectfully.

“Not merely for a ride,” Mr. Dinsmore said, pointing to the package in the boy’s hand; “you did not pick that up by the roadside.  Where have you been?”

“I stopped at Turner’s just long enough to buy this wood that I shall need for carving to-morrow.  I should have asked leave, but forgot to do so.”

“Then you should have come home and left the errand for another day.  You were well aware that in going without permission you were breaking rules.  You will go immediately to your room and stay there until this time to-morrow.”

“I think you’re very hard on a fellow,” muttered Max, flushing with mortification and anger as he turned to obey.

Lulu, coming down the stairs, had heard and seen it all.  She stood still for a moment at the foot of the stairway, giving Mr. Dinsmore a look that, had it been a dagger, would have stabbed him to the heart, but which he did not see; then, just as the tea-bell rang, turned and began the ascent again.

“Why are you going back, Lulu? did you not hear the supper bell?” asked Mr. Dinsmore.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, facing him again with flashing eyes, “but if my brother is not to go to the table neither will I.”

“Oh, very well,” he said; “you certainly do not deserve a seat there after such a speech as that.  Go to your own room and stay there until you find yourself in a more amiable and respectful mood.”