"Please Lindon--I--I'm awfully sorry I was such a cad to you--and will you forgive me? I--I--" "That's all right, Scissors," said Lindon, shaking John's hand. "I like fire in a kid. Are you coming over to see us?" he asked. "I'm sorry I can't---I go on Tuesday--" "Well--you must come to stay next hols. Good-bye!" and with a smile he was gone. All John's hero worship swelled up within him. How splendidly Lindon had dismissed the beastly affair! John hurried after the trap and clambered in. Marsh smiled at him with perfect understanding, and John felt how good was life. All the way back to the Vicarage his heart was singing within him. At the Vicarage door, as he carried in the parcels, he could not help whistling. Marsh took his arm. "That storm over?" he asked, sympathetically. John could not answer, but he nodded. They walked into the house. CHAPTER VI I The following Tuesday John said good-bye to the Marshs and left for "The Croft" to spend the remainder of his Easter holidays with the Vernleys. Mrs. Marsh and Teddie drove him to the station, and, as the train left and he leaned out of the window to wave farewell, he knew that once more he had found true friends and a house where his return would be welcome. At dusk he had arrived in the village station nearest to "The Croft," where he found Bobbie and his brother Tod waiting for him on the platform. "Hello, Scissors!" shouted Tod, as the train drew in, "We've a surprise for you. Where's the luggage--give me that, I'll carry it." "How's the great Marsh?" asked Vernley. "As supercilious as ever?" "Yes--in great form, he sends his love and recommends Mother Wingate's syrup for fatuous persons," answered John. "Cheek!" retorted Vernley, "and by Jove--don't you think I'm getting thin--Tod's had me out on the under track every morning at six. I'm going to pull off the 'half' and mile race next term." John looked at him critically, and although Vernley was as delightfully substantial as ever, he had not the heart to disappoint him. "He's wasting away like our Narcissus," said Tod, banging his way through the narrow booking hall. "Look, my son, isn't she a beauty!" He pointed to a racing car drawn up outside the station. John noticed its long rectangular bonnet, the beautiful gleam and hidden strength of the thing, admiration showing in his eyes. "It's mine!--the Governor's twenty-first birthday present! She was first in the trials at Brooklands last week," said Tod, dropping the bag in. "We're going on a tour next hols--all round this giddy old island," cried Vernley. "There'll be a fringe of dead dogs and defunct old ladies around these shores, that never did and never will stand under the foot of the--how's the thing go?" "--proud conqueror," added John. "She is a lovely thing--what's her name?" "Haven't decided yet. I've voted for the 'Silver Slayer.' Tod suggests 'The Gleam.'"