A full half hour he had been lingering, abashed at himself and dreading to appear. The slight growth of adolescence was gone from lip and chin, and Thryng was amazed and satisfied.

“Good,” he cried. “You’ve done well.”

The youth smiled shamefacedly, yet held his head high. With the heavy golf stockings, knee breeches, and belted jacket, even to himself he seemed another man, and an older man he looked by five years.

“Now keep your nerve, and square your shoulders and face the world with a straight look in the eye. You’ve thrown off the old man with these.” David touched the heap of clothing on the floor with his foot. “Hoyle is here. He says the men are on their way here and have stopped at the house.”