“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of going in!” declared Tom in a mild panic.
“But you really must! I want you to. It’s a part of the bargain.” She smiled, and Tom knew right there and then that if Mrs. Morris wanted the moon she had only to smile at him to set him off after it! “You won’t fail to come, will you? Sidney would be so disappointed if you should. And Sidney’s mother, too,” she added as she took up her muff and nodded charmingly. Then, pausing on her way to the door, she turned a very serious face toward Tom. He was not near enough to see the mischievous mockery in her brown eyes. “If you don’t come,” she said, “I shall know that it’s your troublesome hair!”
“Now, what do you suppose she meant by that?” demanded Tom of no one in particular, unless it was Alexander the Greater, who was approaching over the tops of the showcases. Alexander the Greater was a very large, very dignified, and very lazy maltese cat. His predecessor had been named Alexander the Great and so, of course, his name could only be Alexander the Greater. Tom absently dug his fingers in the cat’s thick ruff and repeated the question, “Now, what do you suppose she meant by that?” He passed an inquiring hand over his hair and then, in spite of the fact that a customer had just entered and was looking vaguely around, he hurried to the stairway, bolted down it, switched on the light over the wash-bowl, and looked anxiously at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Except that a stray lock stood up independently on his crown, he could not see that his hair was different from usual or, for that matter, different from any other fellow’s hair—except in colour. He had never been particularly pleased with the colour of his hair. There was too much red in it. Perhaps that was it; perhaps Mrs. Morris had been poking sly fun at the colour of his hair. And yet—— He shook his head as he hurried back upstairs to do up the two pairs of skates. It didn’t seem as though that was just it.
[CHAPTER VI]
TWO PAIRS OF SKATES
He didn’t set out for the Morrises house until nearly eight o’clock. They had been busier than usual in the store and had not got rid of the last customer until almost a quarter-past six. Then, although Tom spent no unnecessary time on his supper, it was way after seven by the time he hurried around to his room to change his clothes. It would never do, he assured himself, to make a call in his every-day suit! As he was far more particular in dressing than he had ever been before in his life, he made slow work of it and was horrified to find that his watch proclaimed the time to be twelve minutes of eight! In something of a panic then, he dashed downstairs and along Locust Street, the bundle of skates under his arm. He had meant to walk to the Morrises, but now it was necessary to spend a nickel and ride there by trolley car. Why, they might be getting ready for bed by the time he got there!
He was a good deal excited. Also, he was a good deal nervous. He remembered reading somewhere once that when calling you were supposed to present your visiting card to the maid or the butler or whoever it was that opened the door to you. Tom had no visiting card, very naturally, and he wondered whether the lack of it would matter very much. He might explain to the maid that he had accidentally left his cards at home in his other suit. Then he reflected that when you carried visiting cards you were presumed to have more than two suits, and that it would be better to say that he had left the cards on his bureau. Then, having apologised in such fashion, he would give his name and ask to see Mrs. Morris. He guessed that would be all right. He rather hoped, though, it would be a man instead of a maid who answered the door. He could make his explanation more easily to a man.
He wondered whether Sidney Morris would mind his coming. He hoped Sidney wouldn’t think he had suggested the visit. He wouldn’t think for a moment of forcing his acquaintance on a chap like Sidney Morris, who was one of the most popular and sought-after fellows in school! And besides, Tom reflected, the Morrises must be very well-off, and it didn’t seem likely that Sidney would care to have much to do with a fellow who worked in a store. Of course it was perfectly bully of Mrs. Morris to want him to know her son, but he feared that Mrs. Morris hadn’t stopped to consider the difference in their positions.