“You do carry it off better than most of the new fellows, Leon; that’s a fact. You must button your coat, though, and just pull up your left cuff a little, for it shows too much. There, that’s all right.”
“Then I do look well?” asked Leon, blushing like a girl at his own vanity.
“Yes, you’re O.K., only don’t let your finery make a Miss Nancy of you. Now, do let me go to sleep. It’s a good hour to breakfast time.”
“All right; I’m going out to explore.” And catching up his cap, he departed, leaving Harry to resume his nap.
Fifteen minutes were enough to show him the grounds and the outside of the buildings. On his way back to Old Flemming he met Stanley and Alex, who were just starting for a walk.
“You’re early, young Arnold,” Alex called, as he drew near. “If you’ve nothing better to do, come with us.”
“Where are you bound?” asked Leon, secretly longing to accept the invitation, but afraid he might be intruding.
“Only just to the village and back,” answered Stanley, pushing back his cap to let the cool morning air strike his forehead. “Come on.”
Leon accepted this repeated invitation, and the three boys tramped away up the road, which stretched along between two stone walls overgrown with blackberry vines and the dainty sprays of the Virginia creeper.
“What do you do here, Sundays?” asked Leon, stooping to break off a top-heavy spray of golden-rod that was lazily supporting itself against a rock.