The boy gave a long sigh of content when he heard that he was not to return to school at present; but it did not induce him to utter a word on the cause of the wetting, either to his mother or to Mr. Ogilvie, who came up in much distress, and examined him as soon as he was well enough to bear it.  Nor would any of his schoolfellows tell.  Jock said he had had an imposition, and was kept in school when “it” happened; John said “he had nothing to do with it;” and Rob and Joe opposed surly negatives to all questions on the subject, Rob adding that Armine was a disgusting little idiot, an expression for which his father took him severely to task.

However there were those in Kenminster who never failed to know all about everything, and the first afternoon after Armine’s disaster that Caroline came to Kencroft she was received with such sympathetic kindness that her prophetic soul misgave her, and she dreaded hearing either that she was letting herself be cheated by some tradesman, or that she was to lose her pupils.

No.  After inquiries for Armine, his aunt said she was very sorry, but now he was better she thought his mother ought to know the truth.

“What—-?” asked Caroline, startled; and Jessie, the only other person in the room, put down her work, and listened with a strange air of determination.

“My dear, I am afraid it is very painful.”

“Tell me at once, Ellen.”

“I can’t think how he learnt it.  But they have been about with all sorts of odd people.”

“Who?  What, Ellen?  Are you accusing my boy?” said Caroline, her limbs beginning to tremble and her eyes to flash, though she spoke as quietly as she could.

“Now do compose yourself, my dear.  I dare say the poor little fellow knew no better, and he has had a severe lesson.”

“If you would only tell me, Ellen.”

“It seems,” said Ellen, with much regret and commiseration, “that all this was from poor little Armine using such shocking language that Rob, as a senior boy, you know, put him under the pump at last to put a stop to it.”

Before Caroline’s fierce, incredulous indignation had found a word, Jessie had exclaimed “Mamma!” in a tone of strong remonstrance; then, “Never mind, Aunt Carey, I know it is only Mrs. Coffinkey, and Johnny promised he would tell the whole story if any one brought that horrid nonsense to you about poor little Armine.”

Kind, gentle Jessie seemed quite transported out of herself, as she flew to the door and called Johnny, leaving the two mothers looking at each other, and Ellen, somewhat startled, saying “I’m sure, if it is not true, I’m very sorry, Caroline, but it came from—-”

She broke off, for Johnny was scuffling across the hall, calling out “Holloa, Jessie, what’s up?”

“Johnny, she’s done it!” said Jessie.  “You said if the wrong one was accused you would tell the whole story!”

“And what do they say?” asked John, who was by this time in the room.