Mr. Knight had descended into the shop, and Aunt Annie also.
'Oh no,' said Tom—'not more than is necessary.' And then he glanced at Henry. 'Look here, my bold buccaneer, you've got nothing to do just now, have you? You can stroll along with me a bit, and we'll see if we can buy you a twopenny toy for a birthday present.'
Tom always called Henry his 'bold buccaneer.' He had picked up the term of endearment from the doctor with the black bag twelve years ago. Henry had his cap on in two seconds, and Mrs. Knight beamed at this unusual proof of kindly thought on Tom's part.
In the street Tom turned westwards instead of to the City, where his daily work lay.
'Aren't you going to work to-day?' Henry asked in surprise.
'No,' said Tom. 'I told my benevolent employers last night that it was your birthday to-day, and I asked whether I could have a holiday. What do you think they answered?'
'You didn't ask them,' said Henry.
'They answered that I could have forty holidays. And they requested me to wish you, on behalf of the firm, many happy returns of the day.'
'Don't rot,' said Henry.