“You had better do so yourself. Boys had better settle such serious affairs with their fathers, without setting their sisters to interfere. What’s the matter, Harry—you are not afraid to speak to papa?”
“Only for one thing,” said Harry. “Margaret, I went out to shoot pee-wits last Saturday with two fellows, and I can’t speak to papa while that’s on my mind.”
“Then you had better tell him at once.”
“I knew you would say so; but it would be like a girl, and it would be telling of the two fellows.”
“Not at all; papa would not care about them.”
“You see,” said Harry, twisting a little, “I knew I ought not; but they said I was afraid of a gun, and that I had no money. Now I see that was chaff, but I didn’t then, and Norman wasn’t there.”
“I am so glad you have told me all this, Harry dear, for I knew you had been less at home of late, and I was almost afraid you were not going on quite well.”
“That’s what it is,” said Harry. “I can’t stand things at all, and I can’t go moping about as Norman does. I can’t live without fun, and now Norman isn’t here, half the time it turns to something I am sorry for afterwards.”
“But, Harry, if you let yourself be drawn into mischief here for want of Norman, what would you do at sea?”
“I should be an officer!”