“Tony,” said Miss Trim, whose heart yearned towards her old but almost unrecognisable pupil, “don’t you remember how we used to do lessons together and play sometimes?”
“And fight?” added Cora, with a glance at Ian, which caused Elsie to laugh.
“Tonyquat does not forget,” replied the boy, with profound gravity. “He remembers the lessons and the punishments. He also remembers dancing on the teacher’s bonnet and scratching the teacher’s nose!”
This was received with a shout of delighted laughter, for in it the spirit of the ancient Tony was recognised.
But Ian Macdonald did not laugh. He scarcely spoke except when spoken to. He seemed to have no appetite, and his face was so pale from his long illness that he had quite the air of a sick man.
“Come, Ian, why don’t you eat? Why, you look as white as you did after the grizzly had clawed you all over.”
This remark, and the bear-claw collar on the youth’s neck, drew forth a question or two, but Ian was modest. He could not be induced to talk of his adventure, even when pressed to do so by Elsie.
“Come, then, if you won’t tell it I will,” said Victor; and thereupon he gave a glowing account of the great fight with the bear, the triumphant victory, and the long illness, which had well-nigh terminated fatally.
“But why did you not help him in the hunt?” asked Elsie of Victor, in a tone of reproach.
“Because he wouldn’t let us; the reason why is best known to himself. Perhaps native obstinacy had to do with it.”