fellow! I can
understand his alarm, and how can I reassure him? George Grey is going to
Cape May, or so says your aunt, and I am sure if Josiah knows that he is
recognized, he will drop everything and run. I would run, John, and
quickly too. Grey will be sure to write to Woodburn again."

"What then, sir?"

"Oh, he told your Aunt Ann and me that he would not go any further unless
he chanced to know certainly where Josiah was. If he did, it would be his
duty, as he said, to reclaim him. It is not a pleasant business, and I
ought to warn Josiah, which you may not know is against the law. However,
I will think it over. Ann did not say when Grey was coming, and he is
just as apt not to go as to go. Confound him and all their ways."

John had nothing to say. The matter was in older and wiser hands
than his. His uncle rose, "I must go to bed, but I have a word to say
now about your examinations for admission. I must talk to Rivers.
Good-night!"

CHAPTER XIV

On Saturday the Squire asked John to ride with him. As they mounted,
Billy came with the mail. Penhallow glanced at the letters and put them
in his pocket.

As the horses walked away, John said, "I was in Westways yesterday,
uncle, to get my hair cut. I heard that Pole has had chicken-pox, uncle."

"Funny that, for a butcher!" said the Squire. They chatted of the small
village news. "They have quit discussing politics, Uncle Jim."

"Yes, every four years we settle down to the enjoyment of the belief that
now everything will go right, or if we are of those who lost the fight,
then there is the comfort of thinking things could not be worse, and that
the other fellows are responsible."

"Uncle Jim, at Westways people talked about the election as if it were a
horse-race, and didn't interest anybody when it was over."

"Yes, yes; but there are for the average American many things to think
about, and he doesn't bother himself about who is to be President or why,
until, as McGregor says, events come along and kick him and say, 'Get up
and think, or do something.'"

"When I talked to Mr. Rivers lately, he seemed very blue about the
country. He seems to believe that everything is going wrong."

"Oh, Rivers!" exclaimed Penhallow, "what a great, noble soul! But, John,
a half hour of talk with him about our national affairs leaves me tangled
in a net of despair, and I hate it. You have a letter, I see."

"Yes, it is from Leila, sir."

"Let's hear it," said Pe