"I didn't want to tell you I was going to, because I wanted to be better than all of you, and I thought if you knew I was going to you'd want to too, and you wouldn't when I said it first. So I just put some pease in my pocket and dropped one or two at a time into my shoes when you weren't looking."
In his secret heart Oswald said, "Greedy young ass." For it is greedy to want to have more of anything than other people, even goodness.
Outwardly Oswald said nothing.
"You see," Denny went on,—"I do want to be good. And if pilgriming is to do you good, you ought to do it properly. I shouldn't mind being hurt in my feet if it would make me good for ever and ever. And besides, I wanted to play the game thoroughly. You always say I don't."
The breast of the kind Oswald was touched by these last words.
"I think you're quite good enough," he said. "I'll fetch back the others—no, they won't laugh."
And we all went back to Denny, and the girls made a fuss with him. But Oswald and Dicky were grave and stood aloof. They were old enough to see that being good was all very well, but after all you had to get the boy home somehow.
When they said this, as agreeably as they could, Denny said:
"It's all right—some one will give me a lift."
"You think everything in the world can be put right with a lift," Dicky said, and he did not speak lovingly.