was in store for him. But he only looked his father in the eyes.
"I was just coming to you, Papa," he said in a voice that rang true, even though it trembled.
"Come in; I have got something to say to you," said his father, turning and leading the way to his private room. When they were inside, Mr. Fane sat down, and Bobby came and stood before him.
They looked at each other in silence, and it seemed as if the father was relieved by what he read in the child's face, for his brow grew smoother.
He flung the riding—whip down.
"Well—what have you to say for yourself, first?" he asked.
"How is Moti?" was the boy's answer.
"Her head is hurt,—how much, we cannot tell till Dr. Moore comes. I am glad to see that you think her state the important thing—not your own punishment!"
