The Rector had put on his face of Indian immobility.
“John Rieler,” he said gravely, “there are two things to be considered in your conduct this morning. First, there is your going out of bounds and taking a swim without permission. Secondly, there’s your saving Clarence Esmond from drowning. For the first, you are to be punished.”
“Father Rector,” protested John earnestly. “I’ll not do it again. I’ll never jump bounds any more this year. I missed Holy Communion this morning, and it was a mistake. Right after supper, only a few minutes ago, I went to Confession, and I hope I’ll never miss a single day’s Communion till further notice.”
“Your punishment,” continued the Rector slowly and impressively—
“Oh, Father,” broke in Clarence in great alarm.
“Your punishment,” repeated the Rector, looking severely at Clarence, “will be not to go in swimming on any account, on any pretext, with or without companions, from the first of December till the first of April.”
“All right, Father,” said John, humbly. He was filled with a sense of the terrible penalty exacted of him till he noticed Clarence’s ecstatic grin. Then his mind fell to considering the dates, and he grinned also.
“As for saving Clarence’s life,” the Rector went on, “I don’t see well how I can reward you properly.”
“I’m worth one thousand dollars, cold,” said Clarence.
“Exactly,” said the Rector, “and the fact of your being alive does not depreciate your value entirely.”