“No.  It’s early yet; so, come along.  I want to talk to you.”

Thus urged, Andrew went with the boy.  The theatre was some distance away.  Just as they reached it, a clock was heard to strike.

“Bless me!” exclaimed Andrew.  Three—­four—­five—­six—­seven—­eight—­nine—­ten!” And, as he uttered the last word, he started back the way he had come, running at full speed.  It was ten o’clock—­the hour he was required to be at home, under penalty of having the door closed against him.  How troubled he felt!  How strongly his heart beat!  He had not intended to disregard his father’s command in this instance.  In fact, during the day, he had reflected more than usual, and many good resolutions had formed themselves in his mind.

“I wish I could be better,” he said to himself involuntarily, a great many times.  And then he would sigh as he thought of the difficulties that were in his way.  At dinner time he came to the table with his feelings a good deal subdued.  But it so happened, that, during the morning, Mr. Howland had heard of some impropriety of which he had been guilty a month previous, and felt called upon to reprimand him, therefore, with considerable harshness.  The consequence was, that the boy left the table without finishing his dinner, at which his father became very much incensed.  The angry feelings of the latter had not subsided when tea-time came, and he met the family at their evening meal with the clouded face he too often wore.  The supper hour passed in silence.  After leaving the table, Andrew, to whom the sphere of the house was really oppressive, from its entire want of cheerfulness and mutual good feeling, went out to seek the companionship of those who were more congenial.

“There’s nothing pleasant here,” he said, as he stood in the door, half disposed to leave the house.  “If there only was!  But I won’t think of it!” he added with impulsive quickness; and, as he murmured these words, he descended the steps to the street, and walked slowly away.

Thus, it will be seen, the wayward boy was virtually driven out by the harshness and want of sympathy which prevailed at home, to seek the society of those who presented a more attractive exterior, but who were walking in the paths of evil, and whose steps tended to destruction.

But, though thus thrust out, as it were, from the circle of safety, Andrew still preserved his intention of being at home at the hour beyond which his father had warned him not to be away.  It has been seen how, through an error as to time, he was betrayed into unintentional transgression.  Not an instant did he pause on his return from the theatre, but ran all the way homeward at a rapid speed.  Arriving at the door, he pulled the bell, and then stood panting from excitement.  For a short time he waited, in trembling anxiety, but no one answered his summons.  Then he rung the bell more violently than before.  Still none came to let him in, and his heart began to fail him.