The Judge glanced round upon the group as if they were firing upon him from ambush, hemmed, looked at John, and said:
"Why,—eh—who; son?—Why,—eh—to—to his mother, sir; yes, sir."
"Ah, Brother March, a mother's the best of teachers, and Sister March one of the most unselfish of mothers!" said Garnet, avoiding Ravenel's glance.
The Judge expanded. "Sir, she's too unselfish, I admit it, sir."
"And, yet, Brother March, I reckon John gets right smart schooling from you."
"Ah! no, sir. We're only schoolmates together, sir—in the school of Nature, sir. You know, Mr. Ravenel, all these things about us here are a sort of books, sir."
Ravenel smiled and answered very slowly, "Ye-es, sir. Very good reading; worth thirty cents an acre simply as literature."
Thirty cents was really so high a price that the fat stranger gave a burst of laughter, but Garnet—"It'll soon be worth thirty dollars an acre, now we've got a good government. Brother March, we'd like to see that superb view of yours from the old field on to the ridge."
Ravenel stayed behind with the Judge. John went as guide.
"Judge," Ravenel said, as soon as they were alone, "how about John? I believe in your school of nature a little. Solitude for principles, society for character, somebody says. Now, my school was men, and hence the ruin you see——"