Alfred rapped above with the stick that served as a bell.  It was to beg that Paul would come and be thanked; and though Mrs. King was a little afraid of the experiment, she did ask him to walk up for a moment.

Grunt went he, and in rather an unmannerly way, he said, ’I’d rather not.’

‘Pray do,’ said Mrs. King; ’I don’t think Alfred will sleep easy without saying thank you.’

So Paul complied, and in a most ungainly fashion clumped up-stairs and stood at the door.  He had not forgotten his last reception, and would not come a step farther, though Alfred stretched out his hand and begged him to come in.

Alfred could say only ’Thank you, I never thought any one would be so kind.’

And Paul made gruff reply, ‘Ye’re very welcome,’ turned about as if he were running away, and tumbled down-stairs, and out of the house, without even answering Mrs. King’s ‘Good-night.’

Harold had wakened at the sounds.  He heard all, but he chose to seem to be asleep, and, would you believe it? he was only the more provoked!  Paul’s exertion made his neglect seem all the worse, and he was positively angry with him for ’going and meddling, and poking his nose where he’d no concern.  Now he shouldn’t be able to get the stuff to-morrow, and so make it up; and of course mother would go and dock Paul’s supper out of his dinner!’

If such reflections were going on upon one side of the partition, there were very different thoughts upon the other.  The stranger’s kindness had done more than relieve Alfred’s pain:  the warm sense of thankfulness had softened his spirit, and carried off his selfish fit.  He knew not how kind people were to him, and how ungrateful he had been to punish his innocent mother and sister, and so much to magnify a bit of thoughtlessness on Harold’s part; to be angry with his mother for not driving him out when she thought it might endanger his health and life, and to say such cruel things on purpose to wound her.  Alfred felt himself far more cruel than he had even thought Harold.

And was this his resolution?  Was this the shewing the sincerity of his repentance through his conduct in illness?  Was this patience?  Was it brotherly love?  Was it the taking up the cross so as to bear it like his Saviour, Who spoke no word of complaining, no murmur against His tormentors?

How he had fallen!  How he had lost himself!  It was a bitter distress, and threw him almost into despair.  He prayed over and over to be forgiven, and began to long for some assurance of pardon, and for something to prevent all his right feelings and wishes from thus seeming to slip away from his grasp at the first trial.

He told his mother how sorry he was; and she answered, ’Dear lad, don’t fret about it.  It was very hard for you to bear, and you are but learning, you see, to be patient.’

‘But I’m not learning if I don’t go on no better,’ sighed Alfred.