The two returned a little after twelve, and found luncheon waiting for them.  Mrs. Ewing took her place at the table, and James thought that she did not look quite so ill as she had done the evening before.  She talked more, and ate with some appetite.  Doctor Gordon’s face lightened, not with the false gayety which James had seen, but he really looked quite happy, and spoke affectionately to his sister.

“What do you think, Tom,” said she, “has come over Clemency?  I don’t know when there has been a morning that she has not gone for a tramp, rain or shine, but she has not stirred out to-day.  She says she feels quite well, but I don’t know.”

“Oh, Clemency is all right,” said Doctor Gordon, but his face darkened again.  As for Clemency, she bent over her plate and looked sulkier than ever.  She fairly pouted.

“She can go out this afternoon,” said Mrs. Ewing.  “It looks as if it were going to clear off.”

“No, I don’t want to go,” said Clemency.  “I am all out of the humor of it.”  She spoke with an air of animosity, as if somebody were to blame, but when she saw Mrs. Ewing’s anxious eyes she smiled.  “I would much prefer staying with you, dear,” she said, “and finish Annie’s Christmas present.”  She spoke with such an affectionate air, that James looked admiringly at her.  She seemed a fellow-worshipper.  He thought that he, too, would much prefer staying with Mrs. Ewing than going with Doctor Gordon on the mysterious outing which he had planned.

However, directly after luncheon Gordon led James out into the stable and called Aaron.  “Are they ready, Aaron?” inquired the doctor.

Aaron grinned, opened a rude closet, and produced a number of objects, which James recognized at once as dummy pigeons.  So Doctor Gordon was to take him to a pigeon-shooting match.  James felt a little disgusted.  He had, in fact, taken part in that sport with considerable gusto himself, but, just now, he being fairly launched, as it were, upon the serious things of life, took it somewhat in dudgeon that Doctor Gordon should think to amuse him with such frivolities.  But to his amazement the elder man’s face was all a-quiver with mirth and fairly eager.  “Show the pigeons to Doctor Elliot, Aaron,” said Doctor Gordon.  James took one of the rude disks called pigeons from the hand of Aaron with indifference, then he started and stared at Doctor Gordon, who laughed like a boy, fairly doubling himself with merriment.  Aaron did not laugh, he chewed on, but his eyes danced.

“Why, they are—­” stammered James.

“Just so, young man,” replied Doctor Gordon.  “They are wood.  Aaron made them on a lathe, and not a soul can tell them from the clay pigeons unless they handle them.  Now you are going to see some fun.  Jim Goodman, who is the meanest skunk in town, has cheated every mother’s son of us first and last, and this afternoon he is going to shoot against Albert Dodd, and he’s going to get his finish!  Dodd knows about it.  He’ll have clay pigeons all right.  Goodman has put up quite a sum of money, and he stands fair to lose for once in his life.”