towel, and while he spattered and splashed, he was telling her, in interrupted sentences and with broken laughs, all his adventures.
"There is no tea like thine, Sarah, and no toast either, dear lass;" and when he had drained the pot and emptied the plate, she made him more, and still listened, with apparent interest, to his talk, though her thoughts towards the end of the meal were wandering far from Elsham woods and the sea-side. After it was over and the house-place tidied, she went to her room to consult with her own heart. What was to be done with this loving, charming lad, who could neglect his work, and spend a whole day gathering shells and weeds, and seemingly quite unconscious that he was doing wrong? She had allowed Steve to pursue his own way so long, and yet she was aware that it contained elements of disaster which at some time would be beyond control.
This night, in spite of her apparent content, a question she had long put aside presented itself peremptorily for answer. This road, or that road, which was it to be? She did not distrust her own judgment, and she was a woman who, amid many counsellors, would be
