"What kind of good turns?"
"Well—" Don thought. "Remember last winter when Mr. Blair was sick?"
"Yes."
"Tim looked after their furnace three times a day."
"Don," Barbara said, "don't you think he's all right at heart if he does acts like that?"
Don stared. This was putting things in a new light. Then he thought of Tim riding rough-shod, and tormenting Bobbie, and wanting his own way in everything.
"Maybe Tim's all right at heart," he said dubiously, "but he's always making trouble just the same. I'm not going to let him stew up my patrol. I'll go to Mr. Wall—"
"Don!"
The sharp note of disappointment in Barbara's voice sent the blood into his cheeks.
"Stand on your own feet," she said. "What would Mr. Wall think of you? Did the old-time scouts like Daniel Boone go running for help every time they found themselves in trouble?"