“Yes, father; Josh and I went up to take Mr Manners some flies, and James was in the garden digging; but, as soon as he saw me, he slipped away round by the back, and went off into the woods. Josh said that he shied at me.”
“But you, my boy? You didn’t show any resentment for his behaviour to you?”
“I? Oh, no: not I, father; I didn’t mind. I knew he was in a temper. I should have gone and shaken hands with him if he had stopped.”
“Quite right, my boy. He’ll be better soon, and come back, like the true, honest fellow he is, and ask to be taken on.”
“But what about his threats, father?”
“Pooh!” ejaculated Mr Willows. “Mr Manners was right.”
One afternoon Josh came down as usual from the Vicarage, rod in hand.
“What about fishing, Will?” he said. “There’s a lot of fly out on the upper waters. Get your rod, and let’s rout out old RA, and see if we can’t show him some better sport than we had the other evening.”
“Ah, yes,” said Will. “I believe he thought we took him where there wasn’t a fish, just to play him a trick.”
“Yes, that comes of getting a bad character,” said Josh. “He’ll be treating us like the shepherds did the boy in the fable who cried ‘wolf!’”