The boy went sadly up to his room.  It had been a day of severer trial than usual—­of greater wrong and outrage upon him as a child.  For the time his spirit was broken, and he wept bitterly when alone in his silent chamber, that was to be his prison-house until the dawn of another day.

“Where is Andrew?” asked Mrs. Howland, as her little family gathered at the supper table, and she found that one was missing.

“I’ve sent him up to his room.  He can’t have anything but bread and water to-night,” replied Mr. Howland, in a grave tone.

“What has the poor child done, now?” inquired the mother, in a troubled voice.

“He went off to see the soldiers, though he had been expressly forbidden to leave the house after coming home from school.”

“Oh, dear!  He’s always doing something wrong—­what will become of him?” sighed the mother.

“Heaven only knows!  If he escape the gallows in the end, it will be a mercy.  I never saw so young a child with so perverse an inclination.”

“Andrew had no dinner to-day,” said Mrs. Howland, after a little while.

“His own fault,” replied the father, “he chose to fast.”

“He must be very hungry by this time.  Won’t you allow him something more than bread and water?”

“No.  If he is hungry, that will taste sweet to him.”

Mrs. Howland sighed and remained silent.  After supper, she took food to her boy.  A slice of bread and a glass of water were first placed on a tray, and with these the mother started up stairs.  But, ere she reached the chamber, her heart plead so strongly for the lad, that she paused, stood musing for a few moments, and then returned to the dining-room.  A few slices of tongue, some biscuit, bread and butter, and a cup of tea were taken from the table, and with these Mrs. Howland returned up stairs.  Unexpectedly, her husband met her on the way.

“Who is that for?” he asked, in a voice of surprise, seeing the articles Mrs. Howland was bearing on the tray.

“It is Andrew’s supper,” was replied; and as Mrs. Howland said this, her eyes drooped, abashed beneath the stern and rebuking gaze of her husband.

“Esther!  Is it possible!” exclaimed Mr. Howland.  “Didn’t I say that Andrew must have nothing but bread and water for his supper?”

“He has had no dinner,” murmured the mother.

“I don’t care if he had nothing to eat for a week.  I said he should have only bread and water, and I meant what I said.  Esther!  I am surprised at you.  Of what avail will be efforts at correction, if you counteract them in this way?”

Mrs. Howland never contended with her husband.  In all expressed differences of opinion, it was his habit to bear her down with an imperious will.  She was weak, and he was her strong tyrant.  Not a word more did she speak but returned to the dining-room, and replaced the food she had prepared for Andrew by simple bread and water.