gravely.
"Because--because--because--oh, don't ask me!" cried the boy passionately.
Swythe fixed his eyes gently and kindly upon the boy, and left off grinding.
"Tell me why, Fred, my son," he said softly.
"Because of what Bald said and what you said; and then I went in and saw my mother, and she is so unhappy; and--and--"
Then, with a wild and passionate outburst, the boy made a dash at the old man and caught him by the shoulder, as he cried:
"Oh, Father Swythe, I do want to learn to read and to write, and be what you said. Please forgive me and help me, and I will try so hard--so very, very hard!"
"My son!" cried the monk, in a choking voice, and, as the boy was drawn tightly to the old man's breast and he hid his face so that his tears should not be seen, something fell pat upon the back of his head, making him look up quickly, to see that he need not feel ashamed of his own, for his tutor's tears were falling slowly, though there was a contented look in the old man's face.
"Yes," he said, smiling, "you have made me cry, my boy; but it is because you have made me happy. You have taught me that I have touched your young heart and opened the bright well-spring of the true and good that is in your nature. Fred, my boy," he continued, "you are too young to know it, so I will tell you: my son, you have just done something that is very brave and true."
"I?" cried the boy passionately, as he turned away his head. "I have behaved ill to you who have always been so kind and good, and made my mother weep for me when she is in such dreadful trouble without."
"And then, my boy, you have come straight to me, your teacher--the poor, weak, humble servant of his master, who has always striven to lead you in the right way--and thrown yourself upon my breast and owned your fault. That is what I mean by saying you have done a very brave thing, my boy. There, and so you will try now?"
The last words came with a bright and cheerful ring, as Swythe released the boy and sat back smiling at him and looking proudly into his eyes.
"And so you want to learn to read and write and grow into a wise man who may some day rule over this land?"
"Oh, I want to learn!" cried the boy, dashing away his last tears. "I want to be wise and great; but oh, no: I don't want to rule and be King. I want father to live till I am quite an old man."
"I hope he will!" said Swythe, smiling, and nodding his head pleasantly, as the boy hurriedly turned the conversation by asking:
"What are you doing there?"
"Making some fresh ink, my boy," was the reply.
"Ink? How?"
"Hah!" cried the monk, chuckling pleasantly; "now the vessel is opened and eager for the knowledge to be poured in. Question away, Fred, my son, and mine shall be the task to pour the wisdom in--as far as I have it," he added, with a sigh.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alfred stood at the great entrance late that afternoon when the loud barking of the dogs told of the young hunters' return, and as soon as they came in sight Red cried:
"There, I told you so; Fred's along with old Swythe."
For the monk was standing by the boy's side, waiting to see what success the young hunters had achieved.
They looked to see their brother disappointed and ready to upbraid them with going and leaving him behind; but they were surprised, for the boy saluted them with:
"Well, where's the fat buck?"
"Oh," said Bald shortly, "we had a splendid run, but the dogs were so stupid that he managed to get away. But you ought to have been there: it was grand."
"Was it?" said Alfred coolly. The news did not seem to trouble him in the least. He noticed, though, that the three boys were so tired out that not one of them seemed to care for his supper, and directly after they went off to bed.
CHAPTER FIVE.
BEGINNING TO BE GREAT.
The boys had some fresh plan for the next day, and when Alfred went up to bed they were all whispering eagerly; but as soon as their brother entered the room they pretended to be asleep.
Alfred said nothing till he was undressed and about to get into his bed, and then he only wished them good night.
There was no reply, and the boy felt hurt; but just then he recollected something which made him clap his right hand first to his cheek and then to his forehead, as if he fully expected to find both places still wet and warm. They felt still as if
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