Christopher's gaze returned slowly from the landscape and rested
inquiringly upon the youthful features before him, seeking in
them some definite promise of the future. The girlish look of the
mouth irritated him ludicrously, and half-forgotten words of
Carraway's awoke within his memory.

"Fletcher loves but one thing on this earth, and his ambition is
that the boy shall be respected in the county." A Fletcher
respected in the very stronghold of a Blake! He laughed aloud,
and then spoke hurriedly as if to explain the surprising mirth in
his outburst.

"So you came to pay a visit to your nearest neighbour and are
afraid your grandfather will find it out? Then you'll get a
spanking, I dare say."

Will blushed furiously, and stood awkwardly scraping up a pile of
sand with the sole of his boot. "I'm not a baby," he blurted out
at last, "and I'll go where I like, whatever he says."

"He keeps a pretty close watch over you, I reckon. Perhaps he's
afraid you'll become a man and step into his shoes before he
knows it."

"Oh, he can't find me out, all the same," said the boy slyly. "He
thinks I've gone over to Mr. Morrison's now to do my Greek--he's
crazy about my learning Greek, and I hate it--and, you bet your
life, he'll be hopping mad if he finds I've given him the slip."

"He will, will he?" remarked Christopher, and the thought