Flynn's own reply when I reproved him for the nonsense he had put into
Jerry's head about the prize ring will show how Jerry stood in the
eyes of one of the best athletes of his day. "He's a wonder, Misther
Canby. Sure, ye can't blame me f'r wantin' to thry him against good
'uns. He ain't awake yet, sor, an' he's too good-nachured. Holy
pow'rs! If the b'ye ever cud be injuced to get mad-like, he'd lick his
weight in woild-cats--so he w'ud."

There were times, as you may imagine, when I felt much like
Frankenstein in awe of the creature I had created. But Jerry
fortunately couldn't be "injuced to get mad-like." If things didn't
happen to please him, he frowned and set his jaws until his mood had
passed and he could speak his mind in calmness. His temper, like his
will, was under perfect control. And yet I knew that the orderly habit
of his mind was the result of growth in a sheltered environment and
that even I, carefully as I had trained him, had not gauged his depths
or known the secret of the lees which had never been disturbed.

At the age of twenty, then, Jerry had the body of a man, the brain of
a scholar and the heart of a child. Less than a year remained before
the time appointed when he must go forth into the world. Both of us
approached that day with regret. For my part I should have been
willing to stay on with Jerry at Horsham Manor indefinitely, and
Jerry, whatever curiosity he may have felt as to his future, gave no
sign of impatience. I knew that he felt that perhaps the years to come
might make a difference in our relations by the way he referred to the
good years we had passed together and the small tokens of his
affection which meant much from one not greatly demonstrative by
habit. As Jerry had grown toward manhood he did much serious reading