Maurice breakfasted later, in the dust-bin, on herring heads.
But he kept himself up with a new and splendid idea. They would give him milk presently, and then they should see.
He spent the afternoon sitting on the sofa in the dining-room, listening to the conversation of his father and mother. It is said that listeners never hear any good of themselves. Maurice heard so much that he was surprised and humbled. He heard his father say that he was a fine, plucky little chap, but he needed a severe lesson, and Dr. Strongitharm was the man to give it to him. He heard his mother say things that made his heart throb in his throat and the tears prick behind those green cat-eyes of his. He had always thought his [p17] parents a little bit unjust. Now they did him so much more than justice that he felt quite small and mean inside his cat-skin.
He landed there on his four padded feet light as a feather.
‘He’s a dear, good, affectionate boy,’ said mother. ‘It’s only his high spirits. Don’t you think, darling, perhaps you were a little hard on him?’
‘It was for his own good,’ said father.
‘Of course,’ said mother; ‘but I can’t bear to think of him at that dreadful school.’
‘Well——,’ father was beginning, when Jane came in with the tea-things on a clattering tray, whose sound made Maurice tremble in every leg. Father and mother began to talk about the weather.