d to reject an income," said Mr. May with emphasis, "and
go off into the world without a penny in your pocket, I wash my hands of
it; it is nothing to me."

Then there was a pause. The father of the family sat down in his chair,
and looked round him with the happy consciousness that he had made
everybody miserable. The girls were both crying, Reginald pale and
desperate, coming and going through the room. No one had escaped but
Johnnie, who, happy in insignificance, lay all his length on the other
side of the fire, and lifted his face from his book to watch the
discomfiture of the others. Johnnie had no terrors on his own account.
He had done nothing to call forth the paternal wrath. Mr. May could not
resist this temptation.

"Is that a way to learn lessons as they ought to be learnt?" he cried
suddenly, throwing one of his darts at the unthinking boy. "Get up this
moment, and sit down to a table somewhere. Your own room, where there is
nobody to disturb you, is better than amid the chit-chat here; do you
hear me? get up, sir, and go."

Johnnie stumbled to his feet appalled; he was too much startled to say
anything. He took his books across the room to the writing-table which
Reginald had abandoned in a similar way. But by the time he reached that
haven, he came to himself, and recovering his courage muttered something
about the hardship to which he was thus exposed, as boys have a way of
doing; upon which Mr. May got suddenly up, seized him by the shoulders
and turned him out of the drawing-room. "I said your own room, sir,"
cried this impartial father, distributing to all alike an equal share of
his urbanities. When he had accomplished this, he stood for a moment and
looked at the rest of his confused and uncomfortable family. "There is
not much cheerful society to be had here this evening, I perceive," he
said. "It is pleasant to come in from one's cares and find a reception
like this, don't you think? Let some one bring me some coffee to my
study. I am going to write."

"Whose fault is it that he gets such a 