Upon his return home, Scotty went out behind the house to work off some of his superfluous mirth upon the woodpile. He had flung aside his coat and was swinging his axe vigorously, when, with the quickness of the rural eye which always spies an approaching figure, he noticed a man turn in from the highway and walk briskly up the snowy lane. The boy gave a low whistle; his face grew dark with anger. It was the new master! He had found out the condition of the school then, and had come to report to his grandparents. McAllister at his worst was better than this fellow, for McAllister was no sneak. But even in his anger, he chuckled mischievously when he considered what an exhibition Monteith would surely make of himself if he attempted to lodge complaints with Big Malcolm against his grandson. But instead of turning up the path to the door, the new master followed the track that led round the house under the Silver Maple. At first Scotty was of a mind to dodge round the woodpile and escape; but he was too late; Monteith had already caught sight of him; so he waited, sullen and defiant. The new master lost no time in making his errand known. "I came to offer an apology, Ralph Stanwell," he said gravely, "for what I said concerning your name. I found out my mistake only this afternoon." Scotty's defiant air changed to one of amazement; his eyes fell, he felt suddenly ashamed. "I hope you will accept an explanation, though it does not at all atone for what I said," continued the schoolmaster earnestly. "I am truly ashamed of myself for making such a stupid blunder." Scotty squirmed in embarrassment. He had never in his life witnessed any such dignified reparation of a wrong, and in contrast, his own late conduct looked childish and almost barbarous. "Oh, it will not matter, whatever," he stammered abruptly, and in a manner much more ungracious than his feelings warranted. "But it does matter very much. It was no way for one man to speak to another." Scotty experienced a glow of mingled pride and shame; the new master considered him a man then, and he had not played the man's part! "But, you see," continued Monteith, "I felt so sure. It was your Highland accent, and your--your general MacDonald appearance that to my ignorance made your statement unbelievable." The schoolmaster had unwittingly struck the right chord. Scotty smiled shyly but amicably. "Oh, it will be jist nothing," he said generously. "Won't you shake hands, then, and let me feel I am quite forgiven?" But Scotty did not put out his hand; he stood shifting from one foot to the other, looking down at the heap of chips. "But--I--would you not be knowing?" he faltered. "Knowing what?" "That we--that I would be making the schoolhouse worse than ever?" There was a sudden light in Monteith's eyes that would have surely convinced Scotty, had he seen it, of the new master's ability to smile.