ve just been frying fish of my own?"

Tom Gaunt, emitted a little laugh.

"I think you've fried no fish at all. That's what I think. And no one
else does, neither, if you want to know--except poor Bob. You've fried
his fish, sure enough!"

Stung to the heart, the boy stood motionless. A pigeon was cooing; the
sappy scent from the lopped bushes filled all the sun-warmed air.

"I see!" he said. "Thanks, Tom; I'm glad to know."

Without moving a muscle, Tom Gaunt answered:

"Don't mention it!" and resumed his lopping.

Derek turned and walked out of the little wood. But when he had put a
field between him and the sound of Gaunt's bill-hook, he lay down and
buried his face in the grass, chewing at its green blades, scarce dry of
dew, and with its juicy sweetness tasting the full of bitterness. And
the gray shade stalked out again, and stood there in the warmth of the
August day, with its scent and murmur of full summer, while the pigeons
cooed and dandelion fluff drifted by. . . .

When, two hours later, he entered the kitchen at home, of the company
assembled Frances Freeland alone retained equanimity enough to put up her
face to be kissed.

"I'm so thankful you've come back in time to see your uncles, darling.
Your Uncle John thinks, and we all agree, that to encourage those poor
laborers to do things which are not nice is--is--you know what I mean,
darling!"

Derek gave a bitter little laugh.

"Criminal, Granny! Yes, and puppyish! I've learned all that."

The sound of his voice was utterly unlike his own, and Kirsteen, starting
forward, put her arm round him.

"It's all right, Mother. They've chucked me."

At that moment, when all, save his mother, wanted so to express their
satisfaction, Frances Freeland alone succeeded.

"I'm so glad, darling!"

Then John rose and, holding out his hand to his nephew, said:

"That's the end of the trouble, then, Derek?"

"Yes. And I beg your pardon, Uncle John; and all--Uncle Stanley, Uncle
Felix; you, Dad; Granny."

They had all risen now. The boy's face gave them--even John, even
Stanley--a choke in the throat. Frances Freeland suddenly took their
arms and went to the door; her other two sons followed. And quietly they
all went out.

Derek, who had stayed perfectly still, staring past Nedda into a corner
of the room, said:

"Ask him what he wants, Mother."

Nedda smothered down a cry. But Kirsteen, tightening her clasp of him
and looking stea