There was also a concerned look in the eyes of his sister Beth.

Why had he gone back that time? And having gone back, why had he not told
Tim, bluntly and plainly, that he would have to let Bobbie alone? Had
there been a clash of wills, it would all be over with now. Instead, the
time of decision had been put off. It might come any day. And because he
had hesitated to meet it once, it would be all the harder to meet it in
the future.

"I don't think Don is hungry," said Beth.

He came to himself with a start and found that he was again staring
fixedly at his plate. He was glad when the meal came to an end.

He went up to his room. There were two letters he ought to write to
Audubon societies that had ordered bird-houses. But, though he drew out
paper and ink and envelopes, he could not concentrate his thoughts on
what he had to say. At last he went downstairs and sat on the porch.

He was discouraged. Under Phil Morris, the Wolf patrol had been strong
and vigorous. Phil had refused to stand for any nonsense.

"I guess--I guess I haven't the spunk Phil had," Don told himself.

In the kitchen the sounds of dish-washing ceased. Presently Barbara came
out on the porch. The chair in which he sat was wide. She touched his
arm.

"Push over, Don."

He made room for her.

"Well," she asked, "what's the scout trouble now?"

He could always talk to Barbara as though she were an older brother. Now
he told her about his meeting with Tim, and of the sorry way he had
handled himself.

"And now," he ended, "Tim will think I'm scared of him and that he can do
just as he pleases."

"Will he think that?" Barbara asked.

"Well, won't he?"

The girl did not answer. After a moment she asked:

"How about good turns, Don? Does Tim do any?"

"Of course he does. Isn't he a scout?"

"What kind of good turns?"

"Well--" Don thought. "Remember last winter when Mr. Blair was sick?"

"Yes."

"Tim looked after their furnace three times a day."

"Don," Barbara said, "don't you think he's all right at heart if he does
acts like that?"

Don stared. This was putting things in a new light. Then he thought of
Tim riding rough-shod, and tormenting Bobbie, and wanting his own way in
everything.

"Maybe Tim's all right at heart," he said dubiously, "but he's always
making trouble just the same. I'm not going to let him stew up my patrol.
I'll go to Mr. Wall--"

"Don!"

The sharp note of disappointment in Barbara's voice sent