“I know he isn’t,” said demure Jane.  “It’s on account of somep’m I told mamma.”

And upon this a gentle glow began to radiate throughout Mr. Parcher.  A new feeling budded within his bosom; he was warmly attracted to Jane.  She was evidently a child to be cherished, and particularly to be encouraged in the line of conduct she seemed to have adopted.  He wished the Bullitt and Watson families each had a little girl like this.  Still, if what she said of William proved true, much had been gained and life might be tolerable, after all.

“He’ll come in the afternoons, I guess,” said Jane.  “But you aren’t home then, Mr. Parcher, except late like you were that day of the Sunday-school class.  It was on account of what you said that day.  I told mamma.”

“Told your mamma what?”

“What you said.”

Mr. Parcher’s perplexity continued.  “What about?”

“About Willie.  You know!” Jane smiled fraternally.

“No, I don’t.”

“It was when I was layin’ in the liberry, that day of the Sunday-school class,” Jane told him.  “You an’ Mrs. Parcher was talkin’ in there about Miss Pratt an’ Willie an’ everything.”

“Good heavens!” Mr. Parcher, summoning his memory, had placed the occasion and Jane together.  “Did you hear all that?”

“Yes.”  Jane nodded.  “I told mamma all what you said.”

“Murder!”

“Well,” said Jane, “I guess it’s good I did, because look—­that’s the very reason mamma did somep’m so’s he can’t come any more except in daytime.  I guess she thought Willie oughtn’t to behave so’s’t you said so many things about him like that; so to-day she did somep’m, an’ now he can’t come any more to behave that loving way of Miss Pratt that you said you would be in the lunatic asylum if he didn’t quit.  But he hasn’t found it out yet.”

“Found what out, please?” asked Mr. Parcher, feeling more affection for Jane every moment.

“He hasn’t found out he can’t come back to your house to-night; an’ he can’t come back to-morrow night, nor day-after-to-morrow night, nor—­”

“Is it because your mamma is going to tell him he can’t?”

“No, Mr. Parcher.  Mamma says he’s too old—­an’ she said she didn’t like to, anyway.  She just did somep’m.”

“What?  What did she do?”

“It’s a secret,” said Jane.  “I could tell you the first part of it—­up to where the secret begins, I expect.”

“Do!” Mr. Parcher urged.

“Well, it’s about somep’m Willie’s been wearin’,” Jane began, moving closer to him as they slowly walked onward.  “I can’t tell you what they were, because that’s the secret—­but he had ’em on him every evening when he came to see Miss Pratt, but they belong to papa, an’ papa doesn’t know a word about it.  Well, one evening papa wanted to put ’em on, because he had a right to, Mr. Parcher, an’ Willie didn’t have any right to at all, but mamma couldn’t find ’em; an’