Aroused thus out of sleep, cross and startled, Mrs. Dare attacked the two boys with angry words. "I will know what you have been doing," she exclaimed, rising and shaking out the flounces of her dress. "You have been at some ! Why do you come violently in, in this manner, looking as frightened as hares?"  
"Not frightened," replied Cyril. "We are only hot. We had a run for it."
 
"A run for what?" she repeated. "When I say I will know a thing, I mean to know it. I ask you what you have been doing?"
 
"It's nothing very dreadful, that you need put yourself out," replied George. "One of old Markham's windows has come to grief."
 
"Then that's through throwing stones again!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "Now I am certain of it, and you need not attempt to deny it. You shall pay for it out of your own pocket-money if he comes here, as he did the last time."
 
"Ah, but he won't come here," returned Cyril. "He didn't see us. Is tea not ready?"
 
"You can go to the school-room and see. You are to take it there this evening."
 
The boys tore away to the school-room. Unlike Julia, they did not care where they took it, provided they had it. Miss Benyon was pouring out the tea as they entered. They threw themselves on a sofa, and burst into a fit of laughter so immoderate and long that their two young sisters crowded round eagerly, asking to hear the joke.
 
"It was the primest fun!" cried Cyril, when he could speak. "We have just smashed one of Markham's windows. The old woman was at it in a nightcap, and I think the stone must have touched her head. Markham and Herbert were holding a confab together and they never saw us!"
 
"We were chucking at the leathering bats," put in George, jealous that his brother should have all the telling to himself, "and the stone——"
 
"It is leather-winged bat, George," interrupted the governess. "I corrected you the other night."
 
"What does it matter?" roughly answered George. "I wish you wouldn't put me out. A leathering-bat dipped down nearly right upon our heads, and we both heaved at him, and one of the stones went through the window, nearly taking, as Cyril says, old Mother Markham's head. Won't they be in a temper at having to pay for it! They are as poor as charity."
 
"They'll make you pay," said Rosa.
 
"Will they?" retorted Cyril. "No catch, no have! I'll give them leave to make us pay when they find us out. Do you suppose we are donkeys, you girls? We dipped down under the hedge, and not a soul saw us. What's for tea?"
 
"Bread and butter," replied the governess.
 
"Then those may eat it that like! I shall have jam."
 
Cyril rang the bell as he . Nancy, the maid who waited on the school-room, came in answer to it. "Some jam," said Cyril. "And be quick over it."
 
"What sort, sir?" inquired Nancy.
 
"Sort? oh—let's see: damson."
 
"The damson jam was finished last week, sir. It is nearly the season to make more."
 
Cyril replied by a rude and ugly word. After some , he upon black currant.
 
"And bring me up some apricot," put in George.
 
"And we'll have some gooseberry," called out Rosa. "If you boys have jam, we'll have some too."
 
Nancy disappeared. Cyril suddenly threw himself back on the sofa, and burst into another ringing laugh. "I can't help it," he exclaimed. "I am thinking of the old woman's fright, and their dismay at having to pay the damage."
 
"Do you know what I should do in your place, Cyril?" said Miss Benyon. "I should go back to Markham, and tell him that I caused the accident. You know how poor they are; they cannot afford to pay for it."
 
Cyril stared at Miss Benyon. "Where'd be the pull of that?" asked he.
 
"The 'pull,' Cyril, would be, that you would repair a wrong done to an unoffending neighbour, and might go to sleep with a clear conscience."
 
The last suggestion amused Cyril amazingly he and conscience had not a great deal to do with each other. He was politely telling Miss Benyon that those notions were good enough for old maids, when Nancy appeared with the several sorts of jam demanded. Cyril drew his chair to the table, and Nancy went down.
 
"Ring the bell, Rosa," said Cyril, before the girl could well have reached the kitchen. "I can't see one sort from another; we must have candles."
 
"Ring it yourself," retorted Rosa.
 
"George, ring the bell," commanded Cyril.
 
George obeyed. He was under Cyril in the college school, and accustomed to obey him.
 
"You might have told Nancy when she was here," remarked Miss Benyon to Cyril. "It would have saved her a journey."
 
"And if it would?" asked Cyril. "What were servants' legs made for, but to be used?"
 
Nancy received the order for the candles, and brought them up. It was to be hoped her legs were made to be used, for scarcely had Cyril begun to enjoy his black currant jam when they were heard coming up the stairs again.
 
"Master Cyril, Mr. Markham wants to see you."
 
Cyril and the rest exchanged looks. "Did you say I was at home?"
 
"Yes, sir."
 
"Then you were an idiot for your pains! I can't come down, tell him. I am at tea."
 
Down went Nancy accordingly. And back she came again. "He says he must see you, Master Cyril."
 
"Be a man, Cyril, and face it," whispered Miss Benyon in his ear.
 
Cyril jerked his head rudely away from her. "I won't go down. There! Nancy, you may tell Markham so."
 
"He has sat down on the garden bench, sir, outside the window to wait," explained Nancy. "He says, if you won't see him he shall ask for Mr. Dare."
 
Cyril appeared to be in for it. He dashed his bread and jam on the table, and down. "Who's wanting me?" called out he, when he got outside. "Oh!—is it you, Markham?"
 
"How came you to throw a stone just now, and break my window, Cyril Dare?"
 
The words threw Cyril into the greatest apparent surprise. "I throw a stone and break your window!" repeated he. "I don't know what you mean."
 
"Either you or your brother threw it; you were both together. It entered my mother's bedroom window, and went within an inch of her head. I'll trouble you to send a glazier round to put the in."
 
"Well, of all strange , this is about the strangest!" uttered Cyril. "We have not been near your window; we are upstairs at our tea."
 
At this , Mr. Dare came out. He had heard the in the house. "What's this?" asked he. "Good evening, Markham."
 
Markham explained. "They down under the hedge when they had done the mischief," he continued, "thinking, no doubt, to get away undetected. But, as it happened, the nurseryman was in his ground behind the opposite hedge, and he saw the whole. He says they were throwing at the bats. Now I should be sorry to get them punished, Mr. Dare; we have been boys ourselves; but if young gentlemen will throw stones, they must pay for any damage they do. I have requested your son to send a glazier round in the morning. I am sorry he should have denied the fact."
 
Mr. Dare turned to Cyril. "If you did it, why do you deny it?"
 
Cyril hesitated for the tenth part of a second. Which would be the best policy? To give in, or to hold out? He chose the latter. His word was as good as that confounded Brooks's, and he'd brave it out! "We didn't do it," he angrily said; "we have not been near the place this evening. Brooks must have mistaken others for us in the dusk."
 
"They did do it, Mr. Dare. There's no mistake about it. Brooks had been watching them, and he thinks it was the bigger one who threw that particular stone. If I had set a house on fire," Markham added to Cyril, "I'd rather confess the accident, than deny it by ............