Meanwhile Betty talked to Ned, dropping her scorn and affection. The boy's simple manliness had won her respect, and when he left she shook hands with him, though Sir John raised his eyebrows. "It's no kindness, Betty, to give the lower class ideas above their station," he said. "Ned will do well unless he thinks he ought to be better than his birth made him, then he'll go wrong, mark my words. He's being educated too much as it is." "La, uncle," yawned Betty, "it's easy to see you were born long before the French Revolution; since that upset nobody really believes in anything. I'm an atheist in politics as well as in religion." "Don't, Betty, before the child. I'm thankful you are a lady-born." "And so can't go wrong, eh? Well, I was taught that as long as a man's not a coward or liar, everything can be excused, and I really think Methodism is as excusable as some things I have been required to overlook in fine gentlemen. A boy who refuses sweets for conscience' sake, and won't give way even when a woman ridicules him can never be a coward or tell a lie. And if I were Vere's guardian, I should encourage his friendship with Ned Edgar." Sir John frowned, but before he could retort, Vere, a very handsome boy, came in. He was followed by Percy Haslem in his captain's uniform, who, like Betty, his wife, spoke and moved with affected langour. Sir John spoke irritatedly to Vere. "How is it, sir, that you left your cousin to be brought home by that doctor's boy?" "Oh, Ned's all right, sir. He met the coach and claimed Bee because his father was her guardian in Canada, so I rode over to meet Cousin Percy." "Insolence," growled Sir John. "To think he had such assurance, and I was blaming you for running off and letting him do it. Mark my words, it would be a kindness to give that boy a lesson that would break his proud spirit, otherwise he'll end on the gallows." "Don't uncle, before the child!" mimicked Betty. "You'll frighten her." "I'm not ever afraid of white men," said Bee calmly. "I'm only afraid of Red Indians when they have war paint on. I hate them; and I despise white men who tell lies." "Haslem all through," chuckled Sir John, but Vere flushed angrily. He knew by instinct that Bee would not tell tales, but he hated her for her contempt of him, as he had never hated anyone before. Sir John was talking to Percy who had just returned from unhappy south Ireland to whom England then was too busy to show justice, much less mercy. His regiment had been recruited there, and the country was in such dangerous ferment that all Irish soldiery had been withdrawn, and English sent there. Sir John denounced all Irish, "Traitors and papists!" he growled. "A heavy hand and the cat o' nine tails is the only way to keep them down."