approval of
what were merely acts of duty, he was surprised at what was, for her,
excess of praise; nor was she as much given to kissing, as are many
women. The lad felt, therefore, that what she thus said and did was
unusual, and was what his Uncle Jim called one of Ann's rarely conferred
brevets of affection.

"Yes," she repeated, "you are like him."

"What! I like Uncle Jim! I wish I were."

"Now go," she said, giving him a gentle push. She was shyly aware of a
lapse into unhabitual emotion and of some closer approach to the maternal
relation fostered by his growing resemblance to James Penhallow.

"So," laughed his uncle as John entered the library, "you have burned
down the school and are on a holiday--you and Rivers."

John grinned. "Yes, sir."

"Sit down. We are discussing that fire. You were the first to see it,
John. It was about eleven--"

"Yes, uncle, it struck as I left the hall."

"No one else was in sight, and in fact, Rivers, no one in Westways is out
of bed at ten. Both you and John are sure the fire began outside where
the wood was piled under a shed."

"Yes," said Rivers. "It was a well dried winter supply, birch and pine.
The shed, as you know, was alongside of the kitchen door. I went over the
house as usual about nine, after old Susan, the maid, had gone home. I
covered the kitchen fire with ashes--a thing she is apt to neglect. I
went to bed at ten and wakened to hear the glass crack and to smell
smoke. The kitchen lay under my bedroom. I fear it was a deliberate act
of wickedness."

"That is certain," said Penhallow, "but who could have wanted to do it.
You and I, Rivers, know every one in Westways. Can you think of any one
with malice enough to make him want to bum a house and risk the
possibility of murder?"

Rivers turned his lean pale face toward the Squire, unwilling to speak
out what was in the minds of both men. John listened, looking from one
serious face to the other.

"It seems to me quite incredible," said Penhallow, and then Rivers knew
surely that the older man had a pretty definite belief in regard to the
person who had been concerned. He knew too why the Squire was unwilling
to accuse him, and waited to hear what next Penhallow would say.

"It makes one feel uncomfortable," said Penhallow, and turning to John,
"Who was first there after you came?"

"Billy, sir, I think, even before the men from the Wayne, but I am not
sure. I told him to pound on the doors and wake