"Happy Christmas, boys. I bring you a Christmas turkey and a plum-pudding from your aunt, John."
He was made heartily welcome and was in unusually good spirits, as Josiah took possession of these unexpected rations and John got into dry clothes.
They fell to familiar talk of Westways. "I fear," said Rivers, "that the colonel is worse. I am always sure of that when Mrs. Penhallow writes of him as cheerful."
"My father," said Tom, "tells me he has days of excessive unnatural gaiety, and then is irritable and cannot remember even the events of yesterday."
"Can you account for it, Tom?" asked John.
"No, but he ought to take dad's advice and see Professor Askew. It makes him furious. Oh! if we were all at home again, Mr. Rivers—and out of this row. You are limping, John—what's wrong? Let me see that leg."
"No, you don't," cried John merrily. "You promised to get even with me after our famous battle—I don't trust you. I bruised my knee—that's all."
"Well, I can wait."
They talked of home, of the village and its people, and at their meal of the way they proposed to conduct the spring campaign. Many bloodless battles were thus fought over mess-tables and around camp-fires.
"For my part," said John, "I want to get done with this mole business and do anything in the open—Oh, here comes Blake! You know our clergyman from home, the Rev. Mr. Rivers? No! Well, then I make you the Christmas gift of a pleasant acquaintance. Sit down, there is some turkey left and plum-pudding."