Friend Forest very quietly related our story, and made much of his own
share in the renewal of our battle. To my surprise, my father smiled.

"It seems plain," he said, "that the lads were not to blame. But how wilt
thou answer to the Meeting, Rupert Forest?"

"To it, to thee, to any man," said the Quaker.

"It is but a month ago that thy case was before Friends because of thy
having beaten Friend Wain's man. It will go ill with thee--ill, I fear."

"And who is to spread it abroad?"

"Not I," said my father.

"I knew that," returned the Friend, simply. "I am but a jack-in-the-box
Quaker, John. I am in and out in a moment, and then I go back and repent."

"Let us hope so. Go to thy mother, Hugh; and as to thee, John Warder, wait
until I send with thee a note to thy father. There are liquors on the
table, Friend Forest."

My mother set us in order, and cried a little, and said:

"I am glad he was well beaten. Thou shouldst never fight, my son; but if
thou must, let it be so that thy adversary repent of it. _Mon Dieu! mon
Dieu! j'en ai peur_; the wild Welsh blood of these Wynnes! And thy poor
little nose--how 't is swelled!"

Not understanding her exclamations, Jack said as much, but she answered: