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“Cut some switches and drub the young scamps,” said Uncle Amasa.

Public opinion being thus divided, every one, including Milly Ayer, looked to Marion for the guiding word. Already this little community had come to rely upon his judgment in emergencies.

The young captain laughed good-humoredly. “I don’t want to set my word before that of my elders,” he said, “but drubbing isn’t always the best medicine. The boys have been rough and hasty. But from all accounts, Master Hempstead hasn’t set them quite so good an example of late as we wish he would. Lewis, you and Mose and Molly must beg Master Hempstead’s forgiveness for misusing him. If they do that, you will overlook it, master, will you not?”

“HEY, WHAT? FORGIVE THEM!”

“Hey, what? Forgive them!” cried the still agitated pedagogue. “Forgive them! Well, anything but their bad spelling! Anything but that!”

“Wal, master, that is a fault you must try to remedy!” cried old Jonas, laughing. “Good spelling is the gift of Heaven. I only wish that it had been given to me.”