"I have eyes and ears," Rod answered. "And I'm not asleep when I'm in town. He had a little blonde in his harem last year. The latest, I understand, is a voluptuous brunette. He has more light loves than some people have servants. By jove, he's the last one that ought to hint to the pater that _I_ need looking after." "Maybe it was old Spence," Phil observed thoughtfully. "The three of them were confabbing when the governor asked me to find you. Old Spence is rather strait-laced, and you're his especial charge, you know." "No, Spence is only an echo," Rod said scornfully, "An echo of other men's thoughts, books, history, languages. Old Spence is decent, and he considers me so. Besides, he wouldn't talk himself out of a job any sooner than he had to. There are no more Norquay children for him to cram with predigested mental fodder." Phil laughed. "You certainly have a piquant way of expressing yourself, kid," he smiled. "I don't think old Spence would let his job interfere with his sense of duty if it were aroused. I imagine, too, that he is slated for a pension after tutoring the three of us. I guess it was our beloved brother who put you in bad. Does it matter so much?" "I suppose not," Rod said reflectively. "Still, it does make me sore to have him meddle like that. He's too fond of butting in and it's always his own ax that wants grinding. Or else just pure cussedness. I could run the rapids on every tide, and seduce a settler's daughter every six months for all he personally cares. He doesn't care a hoot what I do until some of his guests, I suppose, remark on my paddling around in a canoe with a girl who isn't anybody and who wears shabby clothes. Then he's all for class distinctions and a high degree of personal purity. Huh!" Rod's snort was eloquent, and Phil grinned in sympathy. His grin faded with a suddenness that caused Rod to look up, curious as to what had brought that swift change and sobering fixity of gaze to his brother. Grove and Laska Wall had walked down to the top of the bank. They stood thirty feet above tidewater, sixty yards distant, the slanting sunbeams casting their shadows far across the grass. Grove had one hand thrust in his trousers pocket. With the other he gestured largely. "Behold--these--my possessions," Rod interpreted sardonically. "Go up and cut him out, Phil. She's too nice a girl to--" "I wonder why they fall for him the way they do?" Phil muttered under his breath; but Rod's keen ears heard. "They don't know him, and we do," he said cynically. "He's there with the smooth talk, and the pleasing manner, and the good looks--and don't forget the possessions. That counts a heap with most of the girls we know." "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about," Phil said roughly. And when Rod turned in surprise at this outburst, Phil rose to his feet and stalked away up the gravel walk into the grounds.