But the stain upon our family was a source of unpleasantness to us. I
fully believed my father innocent, and I wondered if the time would
ever come when his character would be cleared.

My duties around Widow Canby's place were not onerous, and I had
plenty of chance for self-improvement. I had finished my course at the
village school in spite of the calumny that was cast upon me, and now
I continued my studies in private whenever the opportunity offered.

I was looked down upon by nearly every one in the village. To
strangers I was pointed out as the convict's son, and people reckoned
that the "Widder Canby wasn't right sharp when she took in them as
wasn't to be trusted."

I was not over-sensitive, but these remarks, which generally reached
my ears sooner or later, made me very angry. What right had people to
look down on my sister and myself? It was not fair to Kate and me, and
I proposed to stand it no longer.

It was a lovely morning in September, but I was in no mood to enjoy
the bright sunshine and clear air that flooded the orchard. I had just
come from the depot with the mail for Mrs. Canby, and down there I had
heard two men pass opinions on my father's case that were not only
uncharitable but unjust.

I was therefore in no frame of mind to put up with Duncan Woodward's
actions, and when he spoke of giving me a good drubbing I prepared to
defend myself.

"Two can play at that game, Duncan," I replied.