"Here, John, John, I say," he called, when the time came for him to return to College, "go catch and saddle Sultan for me. You're so fond of work, you might as well have two masters. Be quick now, for I'm in the mischief of a hurry."
John's face flushed. This boy was younger than himself, and his father had been Mr. Hawthorne's friend.
"Do you hear what I say, John?" demanded Reginald. "You're only here as a servant any way, and I'll be master some day, so you might as well learn to obey me now."
John's brow cleared, while the words echoed in his heart with a glad refrain,—
"A servant of Jesus Christ," and "The Lord's servant must not strive, but be gentle towards all … forbearing." After all, life was a matter between himself and the Lord Jesus. What could Reginald's taunts affect him now?
"All right," he said quietly, and started for the field.
"I declare!" muttered Reginald, as he watched the tall, lithe form cross the field with springing step, "you might as well try to make the fellow mad now, as to storm Gibraltar! What has come to him?"
"Here you are, Sir Reginald," said John good-humoredly, as he led the freshly groomed horse to the riding-block.
Reginald's voice choked. "Shake hands, John," he said huskily. "I am a brute! There must be something in this new fad of yours after all. If you had spoken to me as I did to you just now, I should have knocked you down."
He rode on for a mile or two in moody silence, then he gave his shoulders an impatient shrug.