But the iron hand was never relaxed, and there was no room beneath it for the crushed heart of the boy to swell with better impulses.
At supper time, on that evening, the boy was absent.

He should have been at home nearly two hours before.
"Where is Andrew ?" asked Mr.Howland, as they gathered at the table.
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Mrs.Howland, in a voice touched with a deeper concern than usual.
"Has he been home since school was dismissed ?" "No." "Was there ever such a boy!" exclaimed Mr.Howland.
"Most probably he has been kept in," suggested the mother.
"Edward, go round to the house of his teacher and ask if he was dismissed at five o'clock," said Mr.Howland.
Edward left the table and went on his errand.

He soon returned with word that Andrew had not been to school all day.
Knife and fork fell from the hands of Mr.Howland, and the mother's face instantly grew pale.
"I felt troubled about him all day," murmured the latter.
"He was home at dinner time ?" said Mr.Howland, as he pushed his chair back from the table.
"Yes." "Oh dear!--oh dear! What is to become of him?
I've tried everything in my power to restrain him from evil, but all is of no avail." Just at this moment the street-door bell was rung very violently.

As each one paused to listen, and the room became perfectly silent, the murmur of many voices could be heard in the street.

For a few moments all was breathless expectation.