express. Then his countenance changed; he walked back to Lyvern, and
thence to the chalet, like a man pursued by disgust and remorse. Later
in the afternoon, to raise his spirits, he took his skates and went to
Wickens's pond, where, it being Saturday, he found the ice crowded
with the Alton students and their half-holiday visitors. Fairholme,
describing circles with his habitual air of compressed hardihood,
stopped and stared with indignant surprise as Smilash lurched past him.

"Is that man here by your permission?" he said to Farmer Wickens, who
was walking about as if superintending a harvest.

"He is here because he likes, I take it," said Wickens stubbornly. "He
is a neighbor of mine and a friend of mine. Is there any objections to
my having a friend on my own pond, seein' that there is nigh on two
or three ton of other people's friends on it 108 without as much as a
with-your-leave or a by-your-leave."

"Oh, no," said Fairholme, somewhat dashed. "If you are satisfied there
can be no objection."

"I'm glad on it. I thought there mout be."

"Let me tell you," said Fairholme, nettled, "that your landlord would
not be pleased to see him here. He sent one of Sir John's best shepherds
out of the country, after filling his head with ideas above his station.
I heard Sir John speak very warmly about it last Sunday."

"Mayhap you did, Muster Fairholme. I have a lease of this land--and
gravelly, poor stuff it is--and I am no ways beholden to Sir John's
likings and dislikings. A very good thing too for Sir John that I have