of mischief involving Billy, who was
fond of watching their sports when he was tired of doing chores about the
stable. John heard of it later. The likelihood of unpleasant results from
their mischief was discussed as they walked homeward. There were in all
five boys from the village, with whom by this time John had formed
democratic intimacies and moderate likings which would have shocked his
mother. He had had no quarrels since long ago he had resented Tom
McGregor's rudeness to Leila and had suffered the humiliation of defeat
in his brief battle with the bigger boy. The easy victor, Tom, had half
forgotten or ignored it, as boys do. Now as they considered an unpleasant
situation, Joe Grace, the son of the Baptist preacher, broke the silence.
He announced what was the general conclusion, halting for emphasis as he
spoke.

"I say, fellows, there will be an awful row."

"That's so," said William, the butcher's son.

"Anyhow," remarked Ashton, whose father was a foreman at the mills, "it
was great fun; didn't think Billy could run like that."

It will be observed that the young gentleman of ten months ago had become
comfortably democratic in his associations and had shed much of his
too-fine manners as the herding instincts of the boy made the society of
comrades desirable when Leila's company was not attainable.

"Oh!" he said, "Billy can run, but I had none of the fun." Then he asked
anxiously, "Did Billy get as far as the house?"

"You bet," said Baynton, the son of the carpenter, "I saw him, heard him
shout to the Squire. Guess it's all over town by this time."

"Anyhow it was you, John, set it up," said a timid little boy, the child
of the blacksmith.

"That's so," said Grace, "guess you'll catch it hot."

John considered the last spokesman with scorn as Tom, his former foe,
said, "Shut up, Joe Grace, you were quick enough to go into it--and me
too."

"Thanks," said John, reluctantly acknowledging the confession of
partnership in the mischief, "I am glad one of you has a little--well,
honour."

They went on their way in silence and left him alone. Nothing was said of
the matter at the dinner-table, where to John's relief Mr. Rivers was a
guest. John observed, however, that Mrs. Ann had less of her usual
gaiety, and he was not much surprised when his uncle leaving the table
said, "Come into the library, John." The Captain lighted his pipe and sat
down.

"Now, sir," he said, "Billy is a poor witness. I d