there no pictures of him in the house? When I slipped away from my chum, I got into a boat and pulled up the river to my favourite lounging place, and then I spent an hour or two, lying on my back, staring at the sky and vainly striving to explain what now I was convinced was a mystery. I recalled the early visits of Mr. Smith, when my mother used to cry; could it be that my father had committed some crime? Surely not, but why was he never mentioned, why were there no pictures of him in the house? I was in a mood full of curiosity, but this soon changed to one of anger, I don't quite know why, unless I thought that I was old enough to be told anything there was to know. I was in a mood full of curiosity, but this soon changed to one of anger, I don't quite know why, unless I thought that I was old enough to be told anything there was to know. In this angry state I rowed back and stumped straight up to the house, no doubt with great dignity. In this angry state I rowed back and stumped straight up to the house, no doubt with great dignity. My mother was sitting talking to Mr. Smith and my stepfather. My mother was sitting talking to Mr. Smith and my stepfather. "Why, Victor, how flushed you look; is there anything the matter?" asked my mother. "Why, Victor, how flushed you look; is there anything the matter?" asked my mother. "Can I speak to you a minute, mother?" "Can I speak to you a minute, mother?" "Of course, what is it?" "Of course, what is it?" I blushed furiously, and blamed my own precipitation. Why had I not waited a better opportunity? I could not ask the question I wanted to ask with the others there; but I had to say something, and so blurted out: I blushed furiously, and blamed my own precipitation. Why had I not waited a better opportunity? I could not ask the question I wanted to ask with the others there; but I had to say something, and so
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