This was news quite to his liking. He made no reply, lost in wonder over the ways of the mind male and female.
"You ought to be ashamed, you a girl, to want to see a fight. It's time you went to school. Isn't the rector on the porch? I thought I heard him."
Now, of late Leila had got to that stage of the game of thought-interchange when the young proudly use newly acquired word-counters. "I think, Uncle Jim, you're—you're irreverent."
The Squire shut the door on all outward show of mirth, and said gravely,
"Isn't it pronounced irrelevant, my dear Miss Malaprop?"
"Yes—yes," said Leila. "That's a word John uses. It's just short for 'flying the track'!"
"Any other stable slang, Leila?"
He was by habit averse to changing his decisions, and outside of Ann Penhallow's range of authority the Squire's discipline was undisputed and his decrees obeyed. He had been pleased and gaily amused for this half hour, but was of a mind to leave unchanged the penalties he had inflicted.
"Are you through, with this nonsense, Leila?" he said as he rose. "Is this an ingenious little game set up between you and John?" To his utter amazement she began to cry.
"By George!" he said, "don't cry," which is what a kind man always says when presented with the riddle of tears.
She drew a brown fist across her wet cheeks and said indignantly, "My cousin is a gentleman."