"No, my dear," Mrs. Mickle answered. "I believe he has a client with him; he told me after dinner that he would be particularly engaged this afternoon, so I have promised Miss Goodwin that you will see her home by-and-by."
"So I will!" Tom cried gaily. "I'll take good care of you, Miss Goodwin."
"I am sure you will, Tom," the little lady replied, her eyes dwelling admiringly on the boy's healthy, honest face. "What a blessing it is to be young and strong," she continued; "a little bird told me you were one of the best football players at the Grammar School."
Tom flushed with pleasure, and laughed in a flattered, self-conscious manner, which made his brother look at him with a sneer.
"Come and see me play in the next match, Miss Goodwin," the younger boy said eagerly, not noticing the expression on Gilbert's face.
"But I was never at a football match in my life," she told him. "I am not certain that I should like to see a game played. It would make me nervous."
"Yes, I expect it would," Mrs. Mickle agreed. Then, glancing at her elder son, she said, "You are eating nothing, Gilbert."
"I am not hungry, mother."
"I should have thought the keen air would have given you an appetite."
"I have not been out of doors."