“Take the doctor in the parlor, Mrs. Hanson,” he said. “Say I will see him in a moment.”
Mrs. Hanson at once disappeared. When the two were left alone Mr. Bright looked at Oliver inquiringly.
“There is nothing more to tell,” he said; “Dr. Tangus’s visit caps the climax. He, no doubt, has called for his money; and unless I get an extension of time in which to pay up, the matter will be put into the sheriff’s hands, and the place will be sold.”
“It is too bad,” returned the boy. “But there is something else I wish to speak about.” He colored up painfully. “I did not think so much of it at the time—that is, I did not think it was so wicked a deed to do. When I came in I thought Dr. Tangus had been here and told you all about it.”
“About what?”
In a few words, and with a very troubled look upon his face, Oliver told his tale. Mr. Bright listened in silence.
“I know now just how bad and senseless a thing it was to do,” said the boy, at the conclusion.
“I trust you do,” replied his father. “Pranks of that kind to my mind show only a lack of wit. You ought to be above such things, Oliver.” Mr. Bright heaved a sigh. “I am afraid this will tend to make the doctor stiff in his demands. I thought the tone of yesterday’s letter was rather severe.”
“I am afraid so too.” Oliver bit his lip in vexation. “I wish he had punished me in school instead. It isn’t fair to make you suffer for what I have done!” he cried.