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Westways was too poor to be able to afford a barber more than once a week, and then it was always in mid-morning when work ceased for an hour. Sometimes the Squire on his way to the mills came to town early, but as a rule Josiah went to Grey Pine and shaved him while they talked about colts and their training.
Whereupon they both smiled across the table, having that delicate appreciation of the needs of the situation which is rarely at the service of the blundering mind of man. The moment of gentle hypocrisy passed, the mistress of Grey Pine took up her memoranda for the day, and said with some attempt at being just her usual self, "I shall walk to Westways after breakfast Pole needs to be talked to.
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."
When on this Sunday long remembered in Westways, the tall figure of Mark Rivers rose to open the service, he saw the little church crowded, the aisles filled, and in the front pews Penhallow, his niece, and behind them the young men who were to join his regiment.
The feeling of loss, as far as John was concerned, grew less as Leila with return of childlike joy roamed with him over the house and through the stables, and next day through Westways, with a pleasant word for every one and on busying errands for her aunt. He was himself occupied with study; but now the Squire had said it would be wise to drop his work.
"Aunt Ann's garden interests her the way Westways does. There are sick flowers and weeds like human weeds, and bugs and diseases that need a flower-doctor, and flowers that are morbid or ill-humoured. That is not my wisdom, Leila, it is Mr. Rivers's." "No, John, it isn't at all like you."
Nor would the girl herself have been willing to discuss it. John Penhallow should have held his tongue, and now all Westways must be laughing and she would never never forgive him. Evidently her aunt had scolded him about that consultation.
After much wandering and fear of being traced, he had been used at the stables by Penhallow. That he had been a slave was suspected, but that troubled no one in Westways. He had long felt at ease and safe. He lived alone, a man of some forty years, cooked for himself, and had in the county bank a small amount of carefully saved earnings.
He considered any nearer relation than friendship to be at an end, but to lose that also seemed to him a quite too needlessly cruel loss, and now for the first time on returning he approached Grey Pine without pleasure. He had telegraphed to have a horse sent to meet him at Westways Crossing, that he might ride on to the mills after seeing his uncle.
Luckily I received his news, and no one else. You will go to Westways and say there is to be no swimming for a week in my pool." "Yes, sir." "You are not to ride Dixy or any other horse for ten days." This was terrible. "Now, be off with you, and tell Mr. Rivers to come in." "Yes, sir." When Rivers sat down, the Squire suppressing his laughter related the story. "The boy's coming on, Mark.
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