"I didn't do it on Molly Peterkin's account, you know. Tobacco
takes up quite enough of my time without my entering the lists as
a champion of light women. But if you aren't man enough to fight
your own battles, I suppose I'll have to keep my muscle in proper
shape."

Will smarted from the words, and the corners of his mouth took a
dogged droop.

"I don't see how you expect me to be a match for Fred Turner," he
returned angrily.

"Why, I don't expect it," replied Christopher coolly, as he
turned the key in the padlock, drew it out, and slipped it into
his pocket. "I expect you merely to keep away from him, that's
all."

Will stared at him in perplexity. "What a devil of a humour you
are in!" he exclaimed.

"Am I?" Christopher broke into a laugh. "You are accustomed to
the sunny temper of your grandfather. How is he to-day? In his
usual cheerful vein?"

"Oh, he's awful," answered the boy, relieved at the change of
subject. "If you could only have heard him yesterday! Somebody
told him about the fight at the store, and, as luck would have
it, he found out that Molly Peterkin was at the bottom of it all.
When he called me into his room and locked the door I knew
something was up; and sure enough, we had blood and thunder for