Indeed, Hughie was wondering at himself.

He had a strange new feeling in his heart.
He had done a man's deed, and for the first time in his life he felt it unnecessary to glory in his deeds.

He had come to a new experience, that great deeds need no voice to proclaim them.

During the thrilling moments of that terrible hour he had entered the borderland of manhood, and the awe of that new world was now upon his spirit.
It was chiefly this new experience of his that was sobering him, but it helped him not a little to check his wonted boyish exuberance that at the table opposite him sat a strange young man, across whose dark, magnetic face there flitted, now and then, a lazy, cynical smile.
Hughie feared that lazy smile, and he felt that it would shrivel into self-contempt any feeling of boastfulness.
The mother and Hughie said little to each other, waiting to be alone, and after Hughie had gone to his room his mother talked long with him, but when Mr.Craven, on his way to bed, heard the low, quiet tones of the mother's voice through the shut door, he knew it was not to Hughie she was speaking, and the smile upon his face lost a little of its cynicism.
Next day there was no smile when he stood with Hughie under the birch-tree, watching the lad hew flat one side, but gravely enough he took the paper on which Hughie had written, "Fido, Sept.

13th, 18--," saying as he did so, "I shall cut this for you.