As Mrs. Walsham spoke, the memory of his old school and college days came across him.

“That is the argumentum ad hominem, Mrs. Walsham, and when a lady takes to that we can say no more.  You know I like your boy.  There is much that is good in him; but it struck me that you were letting him run a little too wild.  However, there is much in what you say, and I don’t believe that he is concerned in half the mischief that he gets credit for.  Still, you must remember that a little of the curb, just a little, is good for us all.  It spoils a horse to be always tugging at his mouth, but he will go very badly if he does not feel that there is a hand on the reins.

“I have said the same thing to the squire.  He spoils that boy of his, for whom, between ourselves, I have no great liking.  The old man will have trouble with him before he is done, or I am greatly mistaken.”

Nothing came of Mr. Allanby’s visit.  Mrs. Walsham told James that he had been there to remonstrate with her.

“I do not want to stop you from going out sailing, Jim; but I wish you would give up your mischievous pranks, they only get you bad will and a bad name in the place.  Many people here think that I am wrong in allowing you to associate so much with the fisher boys, and when you get into scrapes, it enables them to impress upon me how right they were in their forecasts.  I do not want my boy to be named in the same breath with those boys of Robson’s, or young Peterson, or Blame.”

“But you know I have nothing to do with them, mother,” James said indignantly.  “They spend half their time about the public house, and they do say that when Peterson has been out with that lurcher of his, he has been seen coming back with his coat bulged out, and there is often a smell of hare round his father’s cottage at supper time.  You know I wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”

“No, Jim, I am sure you would not; but if people mix up your name with theirs it is almost as bad for you as if you had.  Unfortunately, people are too apt not to distinguish between tricks which are really only the outcome of high spirit, and a lack of something better to do, and real vice.  Therefore, Jim, I say, keep yourself from mischief.  I know that, though you are out of doors so many hours of the day, you really do get through a good deal of work; but other people do not give you credit for this.  Remember how your father was respected here.  Try to act always as you would have done had he been alive, and you cannot go far wrong.”

James had done his best, but he found it hard to get rid of his reputation for getting into mischief, and more than once, when falsely suspected, he grumbled that he might just as well have the fun of the thing, for he was sure to have the blame.

As Jim Walsham and his companions were chatting in the shade of a boat, their conversation was abruptly broken off by the sight of a figure coming along the road.  It was a tall figure, with a stiff military bearing.  He was pushing before him a large box, mounted on a framework supported by four wheels.  Low down, close to the ground, swung a large flat basket.  In this, on a shawl spread over a thick bed of hay, sat a little girl some five years old.