feel at home.  He was quite enough at home.  It was all agreeable, these handsome relations and the other Penhallows on the walls.  He had been taught that which is good or ill as men use it, pride of race, and in his capacity to be impressed by his surroundings was years older than Leila.  He felt sure that he would like it here at Grey Pine, but was surprised to see no butler and to be waited on at dinner by two neat little maids.

When Ann Penhallow asked him about his schools and his life in Europe, he became critical, and conversed about picture-galleries and foreign life with no lack of accuracy, while the Squire listened smiling and Leila sat dumb with astonishment as the dinner went on.  He ate little and kept in mind the endless lessons in regard to what he should or should not eat.  Meanwhile, he silently approved of the old silver and these well-bred kinsfolk, with a reserve of doubt concerning his silent cousin.

His uncle had at last his one glass of Madeira, and as they rose his aunt said, “You may be tired, John; you ought to go to bed early.”

“It is not yet time,” he said.  “I always retire at ten o’clock.”

“He ‘retires,’” murmured his uncle.  “Come, Ann, we will leave Leila to make friends with the new cousin.  Try John at checkers, Leila.  She defeats me easily.”

“I—­never saw any one could beat me at jeu des dames,” said John.  It was a fine chance to get even with Leila for the humiliating adventures of a not very flattering day.

“Well, take care,” said the Squire, not altogether amused.  “Come, Ann.”  Entering the large library room he closed the door, drew over it a curtain, filled his pipe but did not light it, and sat down at the fire beside his wife.

“Well, James,” she said, “did you ever see a better mannered lad, and so intelligent?”

“Never—­nor any lad who has as good an opinion of his small self.  He is too young for his years, and in some ways too old.  I looked him over a bit.  He is a mere scaffolding, a sickly-looking chap.  He eats too little.  I heard him remark to you that potatoes disagreed with him and that he never ate apples.”

“But, James, what shall we do with him?  It is a new and a difficult responsibility.”

“Do with him?  Oh! make a man of him.  Give him and Leila a week’s holiday.  Turn him loose with that fine tom-boy.  Then he must go to school to Mark Rivers with Leila and those two young village imps, the doctor’s boy and Grace’s, that precious young Baptist.  They will do him good.  When Mark reports, we shall see further.  That is all my present wisdom, Ann.  Has the Tribune come?  Oh!  I see—­it is on the table.”

Ann was still in some doubt and returned to the boy.  “And where do I come in?”

“Feed the young animal and get the tailor in the village to make him some warm rough clothes, and get him boots for the snow—­and thick gloves—­and a warm ready-made overcoat.”