The tutor and Grove arose, left the room. The fancy flitted across Rod's mind that they constituted a jury which had deliberated and given a verdict and now withdrew to permit the august judge to pronounce sentence. He racked his brain for a misdemeanor, a possible offence which merited paternal condemnation. He could recall none. Yet there was an air of suspended judgment in the slow puffing of his father's cigar, the judicial immobility of his manner, in the very silence of that pleasant room with its massive furniture and burdened shelves. "I've decided it will be as well for you to enter McGill in the fall semester," he said dispassionately, fixing his eyes on his son with a slight obliquity of his brows. "Spence assures me you can easily qualify for entrance. You will go down to Vancouver day after to-morrow, get what clothes you need, then proceed to Montreal and stay with your Aunt Maida until the University opens. Give you a chance to meet a few people and get your bearings." "Day after to-morrow!" Rod echoed. "Yes," Norquay senior methodically deposited the ash from his cigar in a brass tray. "And in the meantime--" his even, mellow tone took on a slight acidity--"no more of this harebrained rapid-running with that Thorn girl in that gaudy barge of yours. It may amuse you, but it's hardly fair to the girl." "Amuse me--well, it is good fun," Rod manifested a trace of bewilderment. He had never been attacked from such an angle. "But I don't see--unfair to Mary Thorn? D' you mean dangerous? We both swim like fish, and you can't sink a dugout. I know enough about swirly water not to run the rapids when it isn't safe." "I wasn't thinking about the specific danger of drowning." "What then?" Rod asked. His father regarded him with a mild impatience. "You're almost a man," he said impersonally. "It's time your taste in feminine associations rose a little above the half-wild daughter of a dreamy-eyed incompetent. Especially when it begins to attract attention. You seem to have forgotten, the last two or three days, that we have guests here." "Oh, I see," Rod muttered. A flush crept up into his cheeks, as the implication of his father's words and attitude drove home. He was sophisticated enough to understand--and to resent--and to keep both understanding and resentment to himself. But he could not wholly conceal the small tempest that began to stir in him. He was dealing with a man accustomed to dealing with men, with personalities, and gauging them correctly for his own purposes. The boy's quick color, the momentary flash in his eyes, brought an amused smile to the elder Norquay's face. "That's all," he said. "Most youngsters seem to find it necessary to makes asses of themselves about some sort of female sometime early in their careers. Don't be a common ass, Rod." "I'll try not to, sir," Rod answered with as near an approach to sarcasm as he dared, "for the sake of the family."