on had been beaten in a
public trial of skill by Jim Jarrocks, well-known all over the county as
the most reckless poacher and unblushing profligate anywhere about, and
had thus given encouragement to a man who was constantly before the
magistrates for all sorts of minor breaches of the law. However, he
felt that he must make the best of it, and he therefore spoke of it
among his friends as a bit of foolish practical joking on his son's
part, in which he had burned his fingers pretty severely, and which
would therefore, he had no doubt, read him a lesson to avoid anything of
the sort in the future.

As for Walter himself, he was only too glad to keep silent on the
matter, and let it die out; and so were the family generally. There was
one, however, from whom Walter looked for sympathy, and even for a
measure of approbation--this was his aunt. In the evening, after the
article in the county paper on his challenge and its results had been
read with severe comments by his father at the breakfast-table, he found
Miss Huntingdon sitting alone in the summer-house. Having cut two or
three small slips off a laurel, he brought them to her, and, as he sat
down by her side, said, half mournfully, half playfully, "Auntie, I want
you to make me a laurel crown or chaplet of these."

"Indeed, Walter; what for?"

"That I may wear it as a reward from you, and a token of victory in
moral courage."

"Well, but, my dear boy, if the laurels are to be looked at as a reward
from myself, I cannot crown you till I am satisfied that you have won
them."

"Exactly so, auntie; now that is just what I am going to show you."

"Do so, dear boy, and I shall be only too rejoiced to make the chaplet,
and to place it with my own hands on your head."

"Well then, dear aunt, you have heard all about this wretched business
of the race; you may be sure that it has made me feel very small and
very foolish."

"I can quite understand that," said Miss Huntingdon; "and I have felt
very sorry for you in the matter; but I hope it may turn out for good,
and make you a little more cautious."

"I hope so too, auntie; but this is not the point with me just now. I
want to get credit, from you at any rate, for a little bit, perhaps only
a very little bit, of moral heroism or courage."

"Well, Walter?"

"Ah, now, auntie, that `well' didn't sound well. I'm afraid I shan't
get much credit or encouragement from you."

"Let me hear all about it, dear boy,