"Thanks," said John, reluctantly acknowledging the confession of partnership in the mischief, "I am glad one of you has a little—well, honour."
They went on their way in silence and left him alone. Nothing was said of the matter at the dinner-table, where to John's relief Mr. Rivers was a guest. John observed, however, that Mrs. Ann had less of her usual gaiety, and he was not much surprised when his uncle leaving the table said, "Come into the library, John." The Captain lighted his pipe and sat down.
"Now, sir," he said, "Billy is a poor witness. I desire to hear what happened."
The stiffened hardness of the speaker in a measure affected the boy. He stood for a moment silent. The Captain, impatient, exclaimed, "Now, I want the simple truth and nothing else."
The boy felt himself flush. "I do not lie, sir. I always tell the truth."
"Of course—of course," returned Penhallow. "This thing has annoyed me.
Sit down and tell me all about it."
Rather more at his ease John said, "I went to swim with some of the village boys, sir. We played tag in the water—"
The Squire had at once a divergent interest, "Tag—tag—swimming? Who invented that game? Good idea—how do you play it?"
John a little relieved continued, "You see, uncle, you can dive to escape or come up under a fellow to tag him. It's just splendid!" he concluded with enthusiasm.
Then the Captain remembered that this was a domestic court-martial, and self-reminded said, "The tag has nothing to do with the matter in question; go on."