"What then, sir?"

"Oh, he told your Aunt Ann and me that he would not go any further unless he chanced to know certainly where Josiah was. If he did, it would be his duty, as he said, to reclaim him. It is not a pleasant business, and I ought to warn Josiah, which you may not know is against the law. However, I will think it over. Ann did not say when Grey was coming, and he is just as apt not to go as to go. Confound him and all their ways."

John had nothing to say. The matter was in older and wiser hands than his. His uncle rose, "I must go to bed, but I have a word to say now about your examinations for admission. I must talk to Rivers. Good-night!"

CHAPTER XIV

On Sat.u.r.day the Squire asked John to ride with him. As they mounted, Billy came with the mail. 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."

"Yes, every four years we settle down to the enjoyment of the belief that now everything will go right, or if we are of those who lost the fight, then there is the comfort of thinking things could not be worse, and that the other fellows are responsible."

"Uncle Jim, at Westways people talked about the election as if it were a horse-race, and didn't interest anybody when it was over."

"Yes, yes; but there are for the average American many things to think about, and he doesn't bother himself about who is to be President or why, until, as McGregor says, events come along and kick him and say, 'Get up and think, or do something.'"

"When I talked to Mr. Rivers lately, he seemed very blue about the country. He seems to believe that everything is going wrong."

"Oh, Rivers!" exclaimed Penhallow, "what a great, n.o.ble soul! But, John, a half hour of talk with him about our national affairs leaves me tangled in a net of despair, and I hate it. You have a letter, I see."

"Yes, it is from Leila, sir."

"Let's hear it," said Penhallow.

John was inclined, he could hardly have told why, to consider this letter when alone, but now there was nothing possible except to do as he was bid.

"Read it. I want to hear it, John."

As they walked their horses along the road, John read:

"DEAR JOHN": I did not expect to write to you again until you wrote to me, but I have been perplexed to know what was best to do. I wanted-oh, so much-to consult Uncle Jim, or some older person than you, and so I ask you to send this to Uncle Jim if he is absent, or let him see it if he is at home. He is moving about and we do not know how to address him."-

"That's a big preface-go on."

"I did not see Josiah again until yesterday morning. Aunt Ann has been insisting that my hair needs singeing at the ends to make it grow. [It is too long now for comfort.]"-

"That's in brackets, Uncle Jim-the hair, I mean."

"Yes-what next?"

"Well, John, when Aunt Ann keeps on and on in her gently obstinate, I mean resolute, way, it is best to give up and make believe a little that you agree with her. My hair was to be singed-I gave up."-

"Oh, Leila!" exclaimed Penhallow, rocking in the saddle with laughter, while John looked up smiling. "Go on."

"So aunt's new maid got her orders, and while aunt was asleep in her room the maid brought up Josiah. It was as good as a play. He was very civil and quiet. You know how he loved to talk. He singed my hair, and it was horrid-like the smell of singeing a plucked chicken. After that he sent the maid to his shop for some hair-wash. As soon as she was gone, he said, 'I'm done for, Miss Leila. I met Mr. George Grey on the beach this morning. He knew me and I knew him. He said, "What! you here, you rascally runaway horse-thief!" I said, "I wasn't a thief or a rascal." Then he said something I didn't hear, for I just left him and-I can't stay here-he'll do something, and I can't run no risks-oh, Lord!'"-

"I thought," said the Squire, "we were done with that tiresome fool, George Grey. Whether he will write again to Woodburn about Josiah or not, no one can say. Woodburn did tell me that if at any time he could easily get hold of his slave, he would feel it to be a duty to make use of the Fugitive-Slave Law. I do not think he will be very eager, but after all it is uncertain, and if I were Josiah, I would run away."

As he talked, the horses walked on through the forest wood-roads. For a moment he said nothing, and then, "It is hard to put yourself in another man's place; that means to be for the time of decision that man with his inheritances, all his memories, all his hopes and all his fears."

This was felt by the lad to be somehow unlike his uncle, who added, "I heard Mark Rivers say that about Peter, but it applies here. I would run. But go on with your letter. What else does Leila say?"

John read on:

"Josiah was so scared that I could not even get him to listen to me. He gathered up his barber things in haste, and kept on saying over and over, 'I have got to go, missy.' Now he has gone and his shop is shut up. I was so sorry for him, I must have cried, for aunt's maid asked me what was the matter. This is all. It is late. I shall mail this to-morrow. Aunt Ann has been expecting Mr. George Grey, my far-away cousin. I wish he was further away! "-

"Good gracious! Leila. Well, John, any more?"

"Yes, sir."

"He came in this morning, I mean Mr. Grey, and began to talk and was so pleased to see his dear cousin. Aunt Ann went on knitting and saying something pleasant now and then. At last he asked if she knew that runaway horse-thief we called Josiah was the barber here. He said that he must really write to that rascal's owner, and went over and over the same thing. Aunt Ann looked at me when he mentioned the barber. Then she sat up and said, 'If you have done talking, I desire to say a word.' Of course, he was at her service. You know, John, how he talks. Aunt Ann said, 'You made quite enough trouble, George, about this man at Westways. I told you then that he had done us a service I could never forget. I won't have him disturbed here. Mr. Woodburn behaved with discretion and courtesy. If you make any more trouble, I shall never forgive you. I won't have it, George Grey.' I never saw any one so embarra.s.sed, John. He put his hat on the floor and picked it up, and then he sat down in his chair and, I call it, wilted. He said that he had not quite made up his mind. At this Aunt Ann stood up, letting her knitting drop, and said, 'Then you had better; you've got no mind.' After this he got up and said that she had insulted him. Aunt Ann was red and angry. She said, 'Tell James Penhallow that, Mr. Grey.' After this he went away, and Aunt Ann said to me, 'Tell Josiah if you can find him that he need not be afraid; the man will not write to Mr. Woodburn.' After that I told her all about Mr. Johnson and got a good scolding for not having told her before, and that Josiah had gone away scared. She was tired and angry and sent me away. That is all. Let Uncle Jim get this letter.

"Yours truly,

"LEILA.

"P.S. Oh, I forgot. Josiah gave me a letter for Uncle Jim. I enclose it.

I did not give it to Aunt Ann; perhaps I ought to have done so. But it would have been useless because it is sealed, and you know the rule at Grey Pine."

"Poor Josiah!" said Penhallow, "I wonder where he has gone."

"He may say in his letter," said John.

"Read it to me, my son. I forgot my gla.s.ses."

"It is addressed to Captain Penhallow."

"Yes, I was always that to Josiah-always."

John opened the letter, which was carefully sealed with a large red wafer.

"It is well written, uncle."

"Yes-yes. Rivers taught him-and he speaks nearly as good English as George Grey."

John looked up from the letter. "Oh, that is funny! It begins, 'Respectable Sir.'"

"My dear John, that isn't funny at all-it's old-fashioned. I have seen a letter from the great Dr. Rush in which the mother of Washington is mentioned as 'that respectable lady.' But now, sir, you will be good enough to let me hear that letter without your valuable comments."

The tone was impatient. John said, "Excuse me, uncle, but I couldn't help it."

"Oh, read it."

"I am driven away again. I write this to thank you for all you done for me at Westways. Mr. Grey he met me here on the beach and I'm afraid-I don't take no chances. I saved money here. I can get on anywhere. It's awful to have to ran away, and that drunkard Peter Lamb all the while safe with his mother. I can't get him out of my mind. I'm a Christian man-and I tried to forgive him. I can't do it. If I am quiet and let alone, I forget. I've got to get up and go and hide, and I curse him that done it. Please, sir, not tell Mr. Rivers what I say. I seen Miss Leila. I always said Miss Leila would be a beauty. There ain't no young lady here can hold a candle to her. I want to say I did have hope to see Mr. John.

"G.o.d bless you, Captain.

"Your obedient servant,