"That depends," replied the Squire. "According to the old proverb, we must catch him first before we cook him. He certainly shall not be let off punishment if we do; you need not fear."
"I meant," replied Hal, "that I don't want him punished. I should fancy that it would harden a boy. I would rather have him talked to."
"Be sure he would remember a good smarting far longer," rejoined his grandfather; "and I should feel myself to blame if I neglected to let him feel the consequence of his bad conduct. Such small beginnings are as the seed-corn in the earth, which bringeth forth some thirtyfold, some sixtyfold, and some an hundredfold. That is equally true of bad, as of good seed. But now be off."
That night Hal went to bed with two sinners on his mind,—Farmer Bluff, with his silver mug and his gout, and the youthful but unknown villain who had murdered the old white goose and robbed her nest.
[CHAPTER XI.]
AN ARTIST-DETECTIVE.
THE family assembled with great punctuality at the breakfast-table next morning. Will and Sigismund crowded round young Grantley, who had acquired great importance in their eyes, since he had assumed his novel rôle of detective. Hal, on the contrary, looked rather serious, wondering who the culprit would turn out to be, and what punishment he would have to undergo.
Immediately breakfast was over, the Squire rose and took his gold-headed cane. Young Grantley and the boys followed him out on to the verandah, Hal's mother accompanying them, to shade her eyes with her hand and watch them off, as Dick had seen her do on the first occasion of his peeping over the plantation palings at the Manor House.
Outside the lodge they chanced upon Dick, who had been down to the railway with his father. The squire gave him a benevolent salute, and the boys stopped to speak.