"Well?" was his greeting. John hung his head a little; he was still quivering with the excitement of the last half hour, but he tensed his muscles and threw his head up with a determined look. Bean watching his son closely, saw the lithe young body stiffen, and he mistook the effort of self-control for one of defiance. "You know I forbade you to go out: Have you anything to say?" "No, father." "Very well,--fetch the switch." II Three days later, John sat with his father having dinner on the verandah, for it was a warm evening and the stars glimmered in a cloudless sky. Over the western precipice the daylight had not quite disappeared, there was a strip of red which higher up changed to a light green and gradually merged into the dark blue of the night. They could hear the Iris singing along its bed, a deep full-toned note now, for the melting of the mountain snows was increasing its volume. John did not usually sit up to dinner, but to-night he was enjoying a special privilege which his father gave him occasionally. After dinner he would sit on his father's knee while he was read to from an exciting story book--a custom of his mother's which had been faithfully retained. So when the dinner had been served and the servants had cleared the table and shut the windows behind them, John fetched the book for his father to read. As he handed it to him, Dean took the child's hand in his own, holding it while the boy stood between his knees. "John, why didn't you tell me what happened when you disobeyed me the other morning?" John looked into his father's face; some one had told him then. "I didn't think that was any excuse, Daddy," he said simply. As he spoke, Dean looked at the boy. What an astounding sense of logic the child had! Of course it was no excuse, he had disobeyed and had accepted his punishment; but it was amazing that no advantage had been taken of the incident at the bazaar. For a minute there was silence, in which neither spoke, and Dean's hand closed tightly over his son's. This boy was made of good stuff. A great pride in him leapt up in Dean's heart. "John," he said gravely, "I am very proud of you. You were a young Englishman that morning. You made no excuses--which I loathe, and you didn't flinch in a tight corner, which makes me proud of you," and with that said, he lifted the boy up on to his knees and began reading.