Johns doesn't tell us what Biggles' father's reaction was, when he returned home from his business trip to discover that his son had tried to shoot a snake with his friend, and injured the tendon in his calf in the process, but he tells us that it is something best left to the reader's imagination. So this is the result of my imagination filling in the gaps. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading.

Young James Bigglesworth lay face down on his bed, his backside (and his pride) smarting from a sharp reminder from his father about how he should conduct himself when his father was out of the house. He sniffled and then bit his lip. He was too old to cry. The thought that he was also old enough to know better than to chase snakes around in search of easy money did not occur to him until later.

A soft tap at the door made him look up in surprise.

"Who is it?" he asked, wiping his nose hastily on his sleeve.

"Priya," came the surprising reply. It was the pretty daughter of the dhobi-wallah whom he had saved from the rabid dog not long before.

"What do you want?"

The door opened a crack. "May I come in?"

James propped himself up on one elbow, hoping his eyes weren't too red.

"You're already in," he pointed out with mild sarcasm, as she came into the room with a tray.

She laughed softly. "I've brought you something."

"What is it?"

"I told your father that I was bringing you a snack," she said with a mischievous smile. "He told me just to leave it and not speak to you, but I won't tell him if you won't."

She set the tray down on the bedside table. There was a jug of fresh juice and some biscuits, but what really caught his attention was the small wicker basket that wriggled in an interesting manner.

James picked up biscuit and nibbled it as he watched the girl open the basket and remove a kitten.

She held it out to him. He hesitated briefly. "I'm already in a lot of trouble," he told her seriously. "If my father finds out …"

"He's gone to inspect the tea plantations," she reassured him with a smile. "He won't be back for a while. Besides, I thought you could use some cheering up."

James winced slightly and he felt his face go red. "Does everyone know?"

"Of course. It's a small village and there's not much to talk about," she said with a shrug. "But we all thought you were very brave not to cry," she added shyly.

James smiled wryly and accepted the kitten. Priya fished a bit of string from her apron pocket and the two of them spent a happy half hour playing with the little kitten. James quite forgot that his backside was smarting and before long the two of them were happily chatting about various members of the household staff and the inhabitants of the little village. James enjoyed getting caught up on all the gossip. Since he'd injured his leg, he'd been rather immobilized.

A door slammed somewhere else in the house and Priya scooped the kitten into the wicker basket and picked up the tray, now empty of its biscuits and juice, and disappeared into the hallway.

"What were you doing in there?" came Bigglesworth sahib's voice sharply to Priya from the hall.

"I'm just clearing away the empty dishes, sahib," she replied meekly.

"Very well," he replied, mollified. He appeared in the doorway to James' room. James did his best to look suitably chastened and not at all like he'd just been playing with a kitten for the last half hour.

"Hello, father," he said in what he hoped was a neutral voice.

"Have you learnt your lesson?" his father inquired sternly.

James wondered if he should ask what lesson that was – to not do stupid things, or to not get caught? But he decided that this was not the answer his father wanted to hear, so he just replied "Yes, sir."

His father smiled faintly, as if he suspected what his son had wanted to say. "How's the leg? Are you able to walk about?"

"Yes, sir, fairly well. I still need my crutches a little."

"I could use your help in the office if you feel up to it."

James was faintly surprised. His father rarely asked him to help out in the office. It wasn't until much later in life, in fact it was not until he acquired Ginger, that it occurred to him that perhaps his father felt guilty about punishing him earlier and was trying to restore their relationship.

"All right," he agreed, accepting his father's hand and hopping onto his good leg and reaching for his crutches.

"Captain Lovell is coming for dinner tonight," his father told him, as they walked down the hall toward the office.

James looked up, interested. He wondered if he was still in trouble or if he'd be allowed to sit with the men in the main dining room. He sincerely hoped Captain Lovell would never learn of his foolish attempt to shoot the snake (or what had happened afterward), although he supposed he'd have to explain his injured leg.

His father's lips twitched and he answered the question James had not yet asked. "Yes, you can come – provided you can sit comfortably. And you can tell him you tripped in the garden if you like."

The End.