“That was part of my work, anyway,” said Tom. “And I wanted to come——”
“But that isn’t the reason we want you to have them,” said Mrs. Morris sweetly. “It’s just because you’re—oh, just because you’re a nice boy and we like you. We do, don’t we, Sid?”
“Sure,” laughed Sidney. “Say, Tom, you keep them and some day we’ll go out to the pond and I’ll show you how to use a hockey stick.”
“Why—why, I suppose—if you really want me to have them——”
“We really do, Tom,” said Mrs. Morris.
“They’re pretty expensive, though,” Tom demurred anxiously. “And I’ve got a pair already.”
“Are they as good as those?” asked Sidney.
“Oh, no; they’re just a pair of wooden strap skates. They—they do very well, though.”
“Pshaw, a fellow can’t skate with straps around his foot,” said Sidney contemptuously. “You just see how much better you’ll get along with those. If you’d rather have a pair like these, though, you can have them; can’t he, Mumsie?”
“I’d rather keep these,” said Tom shyly, “because—because they’re the ones you give—gave me.” And he looked gratefully at Mrs. Morris.