omanly tenderness of affection the
heart had somehow won. She knew him well and at times read with ease the
signs of distress and annoyance or resolute decision. Usually he was gay
and merry at breakfast, chaffing the children and eating with the
appetite of a man who was using and renewing his tissues in a wholesome
way. Now he was silent, absent, and ate little. He was the victim of a
combination of annoyances. Had he been wise to commit himself to a
reversal of his sentence? Other and more important matters troubled him,
but as usual where bothers come in battalions it is the lesser
skirmishers who are felt for the moment.

"I see in the hall, Ann," he said, "a letter for George Grey--I will mail
it. When does he come?"

"I do not know."

"John," he said, "you will oblige me by riding to the mill and asking Dr.
McGregor to come to Westways and see old Josiah. Of course, he will
charge it to me." The Squire was a little ashamed of this indirect
confession of retreat.

John looked up, hesitated a moment, and said, "What horse, sir?"

"Dixy, of course."

"Another cup, James," said Mrs. Ann tranquilly amused.

John rose, went around the table to his uncle, and said in his finest
manner, "I am greatly obliged, sir."

"Oh, nonsense! He's rather fresh, take care."

Then Leila said, "It's very hot, Uncle Jim."

"You small fiend," said Penhallow. "Hot! On your way, John, tell those
rascals at Westways they may use the pond." The faint smile on Ann
Penhallow's face somehow set the whole business in an agreeably humorous
light. The Squire broke into the relief of laughter and rose saying, "Get
out of this, all of you, if you want to keep your scalps."

John went to the stable not quite pleased. He had felt that his
punishment for a boy-frolic and the unexpected results of Billy's alarm
had been pretty large. His aunt had not said so to him, but had made it
clear to her husband that the penalty was quite disproportioned to the
size of the offence; a remark which had made him the more resolute not to
disturb the course of justice; and now this chit of a girl had made him
seem like an irresolute fool, and he would have to explain to Rivers, who
would laugh. As he went out of the hall-door, he felt a pretty rough
little paw in his hand and heard a whisper. "You're just the dearest
thing ever was."

Concerning John Penhallow, it is to be said that he did not understand
why he was let off so easily. He had a suspicion