“Unnatural? Unreal? Well, he is a bit of a mystic, I confess. And he came by that naturally enough; got it from his mother. And not a bad thing, either, in these materialistic days, and in this country. But all the same, he’s a real boy, a game sport. He can ride, swim, shoot, and for a boy of twelve shows an extraordinary sense of responsibility.” “Responsibility? He’s as mad as a March hare at times,” said the Colonel’s wife. “Forgets food, drink, sleep. He has appalling powers of absorption, of concentration. I know he leads Peg into all sorts of scrapes.” “Leads Peg!” exclaimed her husband. “Good Lord! Does any one lead Peg? He’s a real boy, he gets into scrapes, but I still contend that he has an extraordinary sense of responsibility. Do you realise that every day of his life he has a certain routine of study, music, Catechism, Bible lesson, and that sort of thing, that he has kept up since his father left him? I believe it was his father—a queer thing too!—who put it up to him and who made it a matter of loyalty to his mother.” “He is certainly devoted to his mother’s memory. But there again he is queer. He has an idea that his mother knows, hears, understands all that he does.” “Why not?” asked the Colonel. “Oh, I don’t know. I have no use for these spooky things. But the boy is queer, and he is unpractical.” “Well, it is hardly to be wondered at. He has his father’s artistic temperament and his mother’s mysticism. But, after all, is he unpractical? Don’t you know that once a week, winter and summer, for the last year and a half, with Indian Tom he has ridden the marches of the ranch? The Lord knows he’s always reporting fences broken and cattle and horses straying over to Sleeman’s herd,” added the Colonel ruefully. “Sleeman’s herd! My opinion is that the chronic state of disrepair in those fences can be easily accounted for. I observe that Sleeman’s calves last year and this year too show a strong Saddle-back strain, and as for his colts they are all Percheron. I don’t like the man Sleeman. I don’t trust him.” “Neither does Paul,” said the Colonel. “Of course, Paul has quite made up his mind that Sleeman is going to hell, so he doesn’t let his various iniquities worry him too much. Sleeman will receive a due reward for his misdeeds. Paul has warmly adopted the Psalmist’s retribution point of view.” “What do you mean?” inquired his wife. “‘Fret not thyself because of evil doers, for they shall soon be cut down like the grass and wither as the green herb.’ The little beggar brought me the quotation not long ago with great satisfaction. He thinks that Asa too is heading toward the same untimely end.” “Why!” said his wife, “I thought that Paul held a most liberal doctrine of forgiveness, which practically wiped out hell.”