Studying was as effortless as breathing to him and no amount of dereliction seemed to interfere with the steady flow of A’s on his report cards. In January of 1879 Lily agreed to let him stay at Mrs. Tideman’s boarding house a block from the high school in Sarnia. Lily talked for an hour with that good lady and concluded that she was a sober-minded, conscientious Christian who specialized in haltering the headstrong youth of the town. “He’ll keep his nose to the grindstone here, and it’s lights out at nine-thirty!” She did her best. So did Lily, but Bradley was rapidly turning into an impetuous, brooding young man – taller than his father by a head at age sixteen, with an oddly effeminate handsomeness that both attracted and repelled the young women in whose company he was increasingly seen. He deliberately cultivated the tubercular look of a romantic poet, letting his blond curls droop wantonly over a pale brow and wan cheek. He was supposed to spend his weekends at home, and did so until he entered grade eleven and took up with the likes of Paul Chambers, the solicitor’s son.
