The boy rose surprised.

Never once had this over-occupied man talked to him at length and he had never been set free to wander in the tempting wilderness of books, which now and then when James Penhallow was absent were remorselessly dusted by Mrs.Ann and the maid, with dislocating consequences over which James Penhallow growled in belated protest.
John went in, glanced up at the Captain's sword over the mantelpiece, and sat down as desired by the still-needed fire.
"John," said his uncle in his usual direct way, "have you ever been on the back of a horse ?" "Yes, sir, once--in Paris at a riding-school." "Once! You said 'once'-- well ?" "I fell off--mother was with me." "And you got on again ?" "No, sir." "Why not ?" John flushed and hesitated, watched by the dark-eyed Squire.

"I was afraid!" He would not say that his mother forbade it.
"What is your name ?" "John, sir," he returned astonished.
"And the rest--the rest, sir," added his uncle abruptly.
John troubled by the soldier's impatient tones said: "Penhallow, sir." He was near to a too emotional display.
"And you, John Penhallow, my brother's son, were afraid ?" "I was." It was only in part true.

His mother had forbidden the master to remount him.
"By George!" said Penhallow angrily, "I don't believe you, I can't!" John rose, "I may be a coward, Uncle James, but I never lie." Penhallow stood up, "I beg your pardon, John." "Oh! no, Uncle James.

I--please not." He felt as if the tall soldier was humiliating himself, but could not have put it in words.
"I was hasty, my boy.