He refrained, then, from telling his mother that the idea had struck him that Tom Haines was one of the party, and that he was trying to get Frank to join them.
"I may be wrong after all, mother; so I had better say nothing about it."
"Have you and Frank had any talk about Tom Haines?"
"Only a few words this evening, when he asked me why I never seemed to care to speak to Tom now, and I told him plainly the reason. The other morning, though, whilst we were at work, Frank began defending the poachers, at least making excuses for them; and I scarcely knew how to reason against him, although I felt that all he said was wrong. What ought I to have said, mother?"
"Simply the truth, Walter, namely, that poaching is only a milder name for stealing. Of this, too, you may be very sure that the poacher of game will soon become the stealer of other things. Your poor father used often to say he never knew an exception to the rule."
Much more the mother and son spoke of as they sat over the cheerful fire. Happy mother, in having a son willing to trust to her judgment, and to be guided by her advice! And happy, thrice happy son, in having so good a friend and adviser!
Then Walter read a chapter in the Bible to his mother, a practice he never missed. After which they had their frugal supper, and retired to rest, at peace with the whole world, and happy in each other's love.
Sound and peaceful were Walter's slumbers, and he arose early in the morning, so as to light the fire for his mother before he went to work. Frank was late at the yard that morning, and Walter fancied that he looked tired and sleepy when he arrived. The foreman reproved him for being behind time, and Frank answered impertinently; upon which the foreman threatened to complain of him to Mr. King when he came to the yard. He came earlier than usual that day, and almost the first thing he did was to commend Walter for having joined the night school.
"I shall have much pleasure in giving you a set of
drawing instruments," said his master.