But—

“Let’s put it out of mind then,” said the Irish voice, quite clearly. “Sure and we’ve much more important matters to discuss, haven’t we now?”

Rolf opened both eyes this time. The little man was floating down to the ground at the foot of the bush. Shep had seated himself on his haunches.

“If you mean the boy,” Shep said gruffly, “there’s nothing for us to discuss. He’s my ward, you know. I’ll not have him associating with blackguards, will-o-the-wisps— or gremlins. And it’s a gremlin that you are, in spite of your green suit and green accent… Speaking of the way I talk, how about you?”

“Now Mr. Sheperton, now,” said the gremlin, or whatever he was, soothingly. “Let’s not dig up old bones to pick…”

“Don’t know why not,” muttered Shep—or Mr. Sheperton, as the gremlin called him. “Many a happy hour I’ve spent digging…”

“I meant only that there’s no need for us to argue further on the matter of speech,” said the gremlin. “It’s the boy we should be talking about. A fine lad—”

“Naturally. Educated him myself,” said Mr. Sheperton.

“And indeed it shows. Indeed it does,” said the gremlin hastily. “But the point is, the lad’s been troubled—there’s no denying that.”

“Life’s not a bed of roses,” gruffed Mr. Sheperton. “Have to take the rough with the smooth.”

“To be sure. But why take the rough at all, if you may go smooth all the way ’round?”

“Builds character, that’s why!” snapped Mr. Sheperton. “See here—whatever you call yourself nowadays—”

“Baneen,” said the gremlin.

“See here, Baneen. These are human matters. You keep your gremlin nose out of them!” Mr. Sheperton went on. “The boy’s had a rough summer. All this interest of his in wild animals made him feel different from his friends to begin with. Then, when he tried to get social again, early this summer, he had the bad luck to crack his leg going off a diving board—showing off, of course, but what’s the harm in that—and had to spend several weeks in a cast.