She smiled, nodded and turned swiftly toward the school. The chaplain looked after her for a few moments, then walked away soberly toward the lake. He was a young fellow, clean-shaven and dark, and with a pair of shoulders that gave me a twinge of envy. I could not guess how great a factor that vigorous figure was to be in my own affairs. As I swung down from the wall and walked toward Glenarm House, my thoughts were not with the athletic chaplain, but with the girl, whose youth was, I reflected, marked by her short skirt, the unconcern with which her hands were thrust into the pockets of her coat, and the irresponsible tilt of the tam-o’-shanter. There is something jaunty, a suggestion of spirit and independence in a tam-o’-shanter, particularly a red one. If the red tam-o’-shanter expressed, so to speak, the key-note of St. Agatha’s, the proximity of the school was not so bad a thing after all.

In high good-humor and with a sharp appetite I went in to luncheon.

CHAPTER VI

THE GIRL AND THE CANOE

“The persimmons are off the place, sir. Mr. Glenarm was very fond of the fruit.”

I had never seen a persimmon before, but I was in a mood for experiment. The frost-broken rind was certainly forbidding, but the rich pulp brought a surprise of joy to my palate. Bates watched me with respectful satisfaction. His gravity was in no degree diminished by the presence of a neat strip of flesh-colored court-plaster over his right eye. A faint suggestion of arnica hung in the air.

“This is a quiet life,” I remarked, wishing to give him an opportunity to explain his encounter of the morning.

“You are quite right, sir. As your grandfather used to say, it’s a place of peace.”

“When nobody shoots at you through a window,” I suggested.

“Such a thing is likely to happen to any gentleman,” he replied, “but not likely to happen more than once, if you’ll allow the philosophy.”

He did not refer to his encounter with the caretaker, and I resolved to keep my knowledge of it to myself. I always prefer to let a rascal hang himself, and here was a case, I reasoned, where, if Bates were disloyal to the duties Pickering had imposed upon him, the fact of his perfidy was bound to disclose itself eventually. Glancing around at him when he was off guard I surprised a look of utter dejection upon his face as he stood with folded arms behind my chair.

He flushed and started, then put his hand to his forehead.

“I met with a slight accident this morning, sir. The hickory’s very tough, sir. A piece of wood flew up and struck me.”

“Too bad!” I said with sympathy. “You’d better rest a bit this afternoon.”

“Thank you, sir; but it’s a small matter,—only, you might think it a trifle disfiguring.”