Then George went up to Mr. Ward, who was still piteously bathing his eye and forehead in the water. "I ask pardon for Hal's violence, sir," he said in great state. "You see, though we are very young, we are gentlemen, and cannot brook an insult from strangers. I should have submitted, as it was mamma's desire; but I am glad she no longer entertains it." "And pray, sir, who is to compensate me?" says Mr. Ward; "who is to repair the insult done to _me_?" "We are very young," says George, with another of his old-fashioned bows. "We shall be fifteen soon. Any compensation that is usual amongst gentlemen--" "This, sir, to a minister of the Word!" bawls out Ward, starting up, and who knew perfectly well the lad's skill in fence, having a score of times been foiled by the pair of them. "You are not a clergyman yet. We thought you might like to be considered as a gentleman. We did not know." "A gentleman! I am a Christian, sir!" says Ward, glaring furiously, and clenching his great fists. "Well, well, if you won't fight, why don't you forgive?" says Harry. "If you won't forgive, why don't you fight? That's what I call the horns of a dilemma." And he laughed his jolly laugh. But this was nothing to the laugh a few days afterwards, when, the quarrel having been patched up along with poor Mr. Ward's eye, the unlucky tutor was holding forth according to his custom, but in vain. The widow wept no more at his harangues, was no longer excited by his eloquence. Nay, she pleaded headache, and would absent herself of an evening, on which occasions the remainder of the little congregation were very cold indeed. One day Ward, still making desperate efforts to get back his despised authority, was preaching on the necessity of obeying our spiritual and temporal rulers. "For why, my dear friends," he asked, "why are the governors appointed, but that we should be governed? Why are tutors engaged, but that children should be taught?" (Here a look at the boys.) "Why are rulers--" Here he paused, looking with a sad, puzzled face at the young gentlemen. He saw in their countenances the double meaning of the unlucky word he had uttered, and stammered and thumped the table with his fist. "Why, I say are rulers--rulers--" "_Rulers_," says George, looking at Harry. "Rulers!" says Hal, putting his hand to his eye, where the poor tutor still bore marks of the late scuffle. "Rulers, o-ho!" It was too much. The boys burst out in an explosion of laughter. Mrs. Mountain, who was full of fun, could not help joining in the chorus; and little Fanny Mountain, who had always behaved very demurely and silently at these ceremonies, crowed again, and clapped her little hands at the others laughing, not in the least knowing the reason why.