"Bob Cooper!"
"That's me, Master Archie. I couldn't rest till I'd seen ye the night. The hare——"
"Oh! that's really nothing, Bob Cooper!"
"But allow me to differ. It's no' the hare altogether. I know where to find fifty. It was the way it was given. Look here, lad, and this is what I come to say, Branson and you have been too much for Bob Cooper. The day I went to that wood to thrash him, and I'd hae killed him, an I could. Ha! ha! I shook hands with him! Archie Broadbent, your father's a gentleman, and they say you're a chip o' t' old block. I believe 'em, and look, see, lad, I'll never be seen in your preserves again. Tell Branson so. There's my hand on't. Nay, never be afear'd to touch it. Good-night. I feel better now."
And away strode the poacher, and Archie could hear the sound of his heavy tread crunching through the snow long after he was out of sight.
"You seem to have made a friend, Archie," said his father, when the boy reported the interview.
"A friend," added Mr. Walton with a quiet smile, "that I wouldn't be too proud of."
"Well," said the Squire, "certainly Bob Cooper is a rough nut, but who knows what his heart may be like?"
Archie's room in the tower was opened in state next day. Old Kate herself had lit fires in it every night for a week before, though she never would go up the long dark stair without Peter. Peter was only a mite of a boy, but wherever he went, Fuss, the Skye terrier, accompanied him, and it was universally admitted that no ghost in its right senses would dare to face Fuss.
Elsie was there of course, and Rupert too, though he had to be almost carried up by stalwart Branson. But what a glorious little room it was when you were in it! A more complete boy's own room could scarcely be imagined. It was a beau ideal; at least Rupert and Archie and Elsie thought so, and even Mr. Walton and Branson said the same.