I
don't like to have the village boys alone with Leila, but when she has
John with her it may be as well to ask Dr. McGregor's son Tom to coast
and play with them."
"He has no manners," said Mrs. Penhallow.
"Then he may get some from John. He never will from Leila. I will take
care of the rest, Rivers. He has got to learn to ride."
"You won't be too hard on him, James?" said his wife.
"Not unless he needs it. Let us drop him."
"Have you seen yesterday's papers?" asked Rivers. "Our politics, North
and South, look to me stormy."
Penhallow shook his head at the tall rector. The angry strife of sections
and parties was the one matter he never discussed with Ann Penhallow. The
rector recalled it as he saw Mrs. Ann sit up and drop on her lap the
garment upon which her ever industrious hands were busy. Accepting
Penhallow's hint, Rivers said quickly, "But really there is nothing new,"
and then, "Tom McGregor will certainly be the better for our little
gentleman's good manners, and he too has something to learn of Tom."
"I should say he has," said Penhallow.
"A little dose of West Point, I suppose," laughed Mrs. Ann. "It is my
husband's one ideal of education."
"It must once, I fancy, have satisfied Ann Grey," retorted the Squire
smiling.
"I reserve any later opinion of James Penhallow," she said laughing, and
gathering up her sewing bag left them, declaring that now they might
smoke.
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