“Exactly like young Tony!” quoth Horace, never afraid to say what he thought.
“What! Like a lad of sixteen to go and put up at some hotel?”
“Like Tony,” repeated Horace significantly. “Trust him to do what nobody else ever did.”
“But how could Spearman give him the chance?”
“Heaven knows! Fred and I never got it.”
“I thought he was to stay at Coverley’s?”
“So I heard.”
“I don’t like it! It’s all wrong at his age,” said Mr. Upton. He had his notions of life and its temptations, and he was blunt enough with his elder sons, yet it was not without some hesitation that he added: “You don’t think there’s any question of bad company, do you?”
And though Horace had “no use for” his so-called pocket edition, he answered without any hesitation at all: “Not for a moment, from what I know of Tony.”
Mr. Upton was sorry he had said so much. He excused himself by mentioning his wife’s dream, now family property, which had been on his mind all this time. Horace, however, had no hesitation in informing him that nobody nowadays believed in dreams.