“But then what will Aunt Betsey say?”
“Oh, she won’t care since it’s only Jacob. And she needn’t know it.”
“Oh, she’s got to know it. But it is not any worse for us than for old Mr Fleming. It’s pleasant down here.”
It was pleasant. The largest elm tree in Gershom grew on the river bank, and its great branches stretched far over to the other side, making cool shadows on the rippling water. The place was green and still, “a great deal more like Sunday than the inside of the meeting-house,” Clifton declared. But Ben shook his head.
“That’s one of the loose notions you’ve learned at college. Your sister believes in going to meetings, and so does Aunt Betsey.”
So did Clifton it seemed, for there was a good deal more said after that, and they quite agreed that whether it was altogether agreeable or not, it was quite right that people generally should go to church, rather than to the river, as they had done. How it happened, Ben hardly knew, but in a little while they found themselves in Seth Fairweather’s boat, and were paddling up the river, out and in among the shadows, past the open fields and the cedar swamp to the point where the Ythan Burn fell into the Beaver. They paddled about a while upon the Pool, as a sudden widening of the channel of the river was called, till the heat of the sun sent them in among the shadows again. Then Clifton leaned back at his ease, while Ben waved about a branch of odorous cedar to keep the little black flies away.
“Now tell me all about it, Cliff,” said he.
Clifton winced, but put a bold face on the matter, and told in as few words as possible the story of his having been sent home. It was not a pleasant story to tell, though he had been less to blame than some others who had escaped punishment altogether. But sitting there in the shadow of the cedars, with Ben’s great eyes upon him, he felt more sorry and ashamed, and more angry at himself, and those who had been concerned with him in his folly, than ever he had felt before.
“The fun didn’t pay that time, did it, Cliff?” said Ben. “I don’t believe it ever does—that kind of fun.”
“That’s what Aunt Betsey says, eh?” said Clifton. “Well, she’s about right.”