Soon he saw his father hurrying off, book under his arm, umbrella in hand.

“Where are you going, father?”

“To the Greybank Schools.”

“I’ll walk up with you.”

“Well, hurry, then. I haven’t much time.”

He did not reveal his surprise. It was the first time in all their lives together that Jeremy had suggested going with him anywhere. They set off together. It was a fine day of early autumn, red mist and faint blue sky, leaves thick upon the ground, the air peppermint in the mouth. Jeremy had to walk fast to keep pace with his father’s long strides.

Mr. Cole suddenly said:

“I’ve got a headache—a bad headache. It’s better out of the house than in.”

In every way it was better, as Jeremy knew. During luncheon, just concluded, Uncle Percy had roared with laughter over his memories of what Herbert was like when, as a small boy, in the middle of the night he thought he heard a burglar.

“When does Uncle Percy go, father?”

“Well—I thought he was going the day after to-morrow—but now he thinks he’ll stay another week.”

“I don’t like Uncle Percy, father,” Jeremy panted a little with his efforts to keep up.

“You mustn’t say that, my boy.”

“It doesn’t matter if I say it to you. Was he like he is now when he was young?”

“Yes; very much. But you must remember that it was a long time ago. I don’t quite clearly recollect my childhood. Nor, I think—does he his.” Mr. Cole coughed.

“We never had very much in common as boys,” he said suddenly.

“He doesn’t know much about England, does he, father? He says the most awfully silly things.”

“You mustn’t say that about your uncle, my boy.”

“No, but he does. Why, he hasn’t been anywhere in England—not even to Drymouth.”

“No, my boy, he hasn’t. You see, when people have lived in the colonies all their lives they get a little—ahem—out of touch.”

“Yes, father.”

Delightful to think of Uncle Percy being out of touch. Quite a savage, a barbarian. Father and son laughed a little together.

“I bet the boys at Thompson’s would laugh at him,” said Jeremy, “like anything.”

“One has to be polite,” said Mr. Cole. “After all, he is our guest. Don’t forget that, my boy.”

“No, father.... I bet he was frightened at the burglar, father; more than you were.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, Jeremy, he was. I remember the incident perfectly. Percy hid in a cupboard. He’s forgotten that, I’ve no doubt.”

Father and son laughed.

“It would have to be a very large cupboard, father,” said Jeremy; and then they laughed again.

Here they were at the schools, where Mr. Cole was going to teach the little girls their Catechism. They parted, and Jeremy ran all the way down the hill home.