CHAPTER EIGHT.
GRANDFATHER'S HERO, BY ANON.
"Harry Moore's a milksop," said Bob decidedly.
"Why ?" asked his sister.

"I thought you liked him." "So I did," answered Bob, "but I hadn't found out what a stupid he was." "And how did you find it out ?" asked Maud.
"Well, I'll tell you," said Bob.

"Last Saturday, you know, we had a paper-chase, and the track was over the bog meadows down by the river.
Harry Moore and I were last, and all of a sudden he stopped and said: `I can't go over these fields.' I asked him why not, and he said they were _too wet_." Bob uttered the last words very contemptuously.
"Well ?" questioned Maud.
"Well, I told him he was a little milksop and had better go home, and he went, and I haven't spoken to him since, although I met him and his little sister and brother with their go-cart this morning.

I don't care about being friends with milksops," Bob added frankly.
"Of course not," Maud agreed.
"Oh, bother this rain," said Bob impatiently.

"It's going to be wet this afternoon.