It was for
running off last night. Going swimming, I believe."
[Illustration: "_Some one was getting a terrible fogging_."]
Bert's eyes flashed.
"That's just like his father," said he, indignantly. "He never wants Ned
to have any fun."
There was no reply. Some hidden feeling, he could hardly tell what,
prompted Bert's next question.
"Would you flog me, father, if I went swimming without leave?"
"That depends upon circumstances," replied his father, looking
searchingly into his face. "If my boy was mean enough to skulk out of
the house at night, when I supposed him to be abed and asleep, it is
just possible that I might not consider him worth flogging."
How Bert's cheeks burned. He had never looked at the matter in just that
light before. "_Never_ be a sneak, my son. It is cowardly and
disgraceful."
Bert made no answer, but his thoughts were busy. Was he not every whit
as mean and cowardly as if he had really gone with his unfortunate
friend? Yes, verily.
And then he thought of his father. How _good_ he was--never denying him
any reasonable pleasure; nay, often denying himself for his sake. Bert
seemed to realize his father's goodness now as never before.
As he thought of this two large tears rolled down his sunburnt cheeks.
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