Then he laughed,
"Did you ever get that cane?"

"No, sir. Billy found it. Leila gave him twenty-five cents for it, and
now she won't give it to me."

"Well, well, is that so? The ways of women are strange."

"I don't see why she keeps it, uncle."

"Nor I. Now go to bed, it is late. She is a bit of a tease, John. Mark
Rivers says she is now just one half of the riddle called woman."

John understood well enough that he was some day expected by his uncle to
have it out with Tom. He got two other bits of advice on this matter. The
rector detained him after school, a few days later. "How goes the
swimming, John?" he asked.

The Squire early in the summer had taken this matter in hand, and as Ann
Penhallow said, with the West Point methods of kill or cure. John replied
to the rector that he was now given leave to swim with the Westways boys.
The pool was an old river-channel, now closed above, and making a quiet
deep pool such as in England is called a "backwater" and in Canada
a "bogan." The only access was through the Penhallow grounds, but this
was never denied.

"Does Tom McGregor swim there?" asked Rivers.

"Yes, and the other boys. It is great fun now; it was not at first."

"About Tom, John. I hope you have made friends with him."

Said John, with something of his former grown-up manner, "It appears to
me that we never were friends. I regret, sir, that it seems to you
desirable."

"But, John, it is. For two Christian lads like you to keep up a
quarrel--"

"He's a heathen, sir. I told him yesterday that he ought to apologize to
Leila."

"And what did he say?"

"He said, he guessed I wanted another licking. That's the kind of
Christian he is."

"I must speak to him."

"Oh, please not to do that! He will think I am afraid." Here were the
Squire and Rivers on two sides of this question.

"Are you afraid, John? You were once frank with me about it."

"I do not think, Mr. Rivers, you ought to ask me that." He drew up his
figure as he spoke.

The rector would have liked to have whistled--a rare habit with him when
alone and not in one of his moods of depression. He said, "I beg your
pardon, John," and felt that he had not only done no good, but had made a
mistake.

John said, "I am greatly obliged, sir." When half-way home he went back
and met Rivers at his gate.

"Well," said the rector, "left anything?"

"No, sir," said the boy, his young figure stiffening, his head up.
"I wasn't honest, sir.