With careful handling he should get a week out of her gift, she explained complacently, besides two makes of broth; and she and the boy looked as if they would like dearly to sit opposite Tommy during those seven days and watch him gorging.

If you look at the matter aright it was a handsomer present than many a tiara, but if you are of the same stuff as Mr. James it was only a hen.  Mr. James tittered, and one or two others made ready to titter.  It was a moment to try Tommy, for there are doubtless heroes as gallant as he who do not know how to receive a present of a hen.  Grizel, who had been holding back, moved a little nearer.  If he hurt that sweet old woman’s feelings, she could never forgive him—­never!

He heard the titter, and ridicule was terrible to him; but he also knew why Grizel had come closer, and what she wanted of him.  Our Tommy, in short, had emerged from his emotion, and once more knew what was what.  It was not his fault that he stood revealed a hero:  the little gods had done it; therefore let him do credit to the chosen of the little gods.  The way he took that old lady’s wrinkled hand, and bowed over it, and thanked her, was an ode to manhood.  Everyone was touched.  Those who had been about to titter wondered what on earth Mr. James had seen to titter at, and Grizel almost clapped her hands with joy; she would have done it altogether had not Tommy just then made the mistake of looking at her for approval.  She fell back, and, intoxicated with himself, he thought it was because her heart was too full for utterance.  Tommy was now splendid, and described the affair at the Slugs with an adorable modesty.

“I assure you, it was a much smaller thing to do than you imagine; it was all over in a few minutes; I knew that in your good nature you would make too much of it, and so—­foolishly, I can see now—­I tried to keep it from you.  As for the name Captain Ure, it was an invention of that humourous dog, Corp.”

And so on, with the most considerate remarks when they insisted on shaking hands with him:  “I beseech you, don’t apologize to me; I see clearly that the fault was entirely my own.  Had I been in your place, Mr. James, I should have behaved precisely as you have done, and had you been at the Slugs you would have jumped in as I did.  Mr. Cathro, you pain me by holding back; I assure you I esteem my old Dominie more than ever for the way in which you stuck up for Captain Ure, though you must see why I could not drink that gentleman’s health.”

And Mr. Cathro made the best of it, wringing Tommy’s hand effusively, while muttering, “Fool, donnard stirk, gowk!” He was addressing himself and any other person who might be so presumptuous as to try to get the better of Thomas Sandys.  Cathro never tried it again.  Had Tommy died that week his old Dominie would have been very chary of what he said at the funeral.

They were in the garden now, the gentlemen without their hats.  “Have you made your peace with him?” Cathro asked Grizel, in a cautious voice.  “He is a devil’s buckie, and I advise you to follow my example, Miss McQueen, and capitulate.  I have always found him reasonable so long as you bend the knee to him.”