ged Waddy
into a nasty squabble, some of the results of which were unpleasantly
conspicuous on the faces and heads of prominent committeemen. Then the
ravaged gardens had to be taken into consideration. Calmer judgment had
convinced the residents that the destruction wrought was not all due to
goats, and there was a general desire to visit the responsibility on the
true culprits, whose identity was shrewdly suspected.

Friday was rather an eventful day at the school. The boys had heard of
the meeting and expected serious developments. Mrs. Ben Steven called in
the morning. She was a tall heavily-framed woman, short-tempered, and
astonishingly voluble in her wrath. She had selected Richard Haddon as
the vandal who had despoiled her cabbage-patch, and was seeking a just
revenge. Already she had called upon Mrs. Haddon and delivered a long,
loud, and fierce public lecture to the startled little widow on the moral
responsibilities of parents, and the need they have of faithfully and
regularly thrashing their sons as a duty they owe to their neighbors. Now
it was her intention to incite Joel Ham to administer an adequate caning
to the boy, or to do herself the bare justice of soundly spanking the
culprit. She bounced into the school, angry, bare-armed, and eager for
the fray, and all the children sat up and wondered.

'I've come about that boy Haddon,' said Mrs. Ben.

Joel Ham blinked his pale lashes and regarded her thoughtfully, in
peaceful and good-humoured contrast with her own haste and heat.

'Have you, indeed, ma'am?' he said softly.

'Have I, indeed! 'cried the woman, bridling again at a hint of sarcasm;
'can't you see I have?'

'Madam, you are very obvious.'

'Am I, then! Well, look here, you; you've got to cane the hide off that
boy.'

'You surprise me, Mrs. Steven. For what?'

'For breakin' into my garden an' robbin' me. Nice way you're teachin'
these boys, ain't you? Makin' thieves an' stealers of 'em. Now, tell me,
do you mean to thrash him?'

Joel considered the matter calmly, pinching his under lip and blinking at
Mrs. Ben in a pensive, studious way.

'No, ma'am, I do not.'

'For why?' cried the woman.

'I am not the public hangman, Mrs. Steven.'

Mrs. Steven could not see the relevance of the excuse, and her anger rose
again.

'Then, sir, I'll thrash him myself, now an' here.'

The master sighed heavily and clambered on to his high stool, took his
black bottle from his desk, and deliberat