“Afraid indeed! If you’d seen all the lickings I’ve had at school, you wouldn’t think I was.”
“Well, it looks as if you were then,” persisted Bertie, who knew his own mind when it was once made up.
Phil looked a little vexed; though it was not in his nature to be easily put out.
“That’s all rubbish! I only hide for the fun of it. You don’t suppose I’d funk anything really?”
“I didn’t think so till just now. I was thinking how brave you were.”
Phil was mollified by the compliment.
“Well, young un, you’re a pretty cool hand, I must say. Pray, what do you think I’d better do, under the circumstances?”
“I’d go straight off to your father and mother and tell them all about it,” answered Bertie, gravely. “I don’t think they could be very angry,—it was so funny, you know, especially about the monkey and his hat. I should say I didn’t want to go back to school any more at Dr. Steele’s, and I expect they’ll let you stop at home with Queenie, and they’ll see you’re not ashamed or afraid. If you hide here, perhaps somebody will find you, and then everybody will think you were afraid. I like people to be strong and of a good courage, and speak the truth always,—”
Bertie stopped suddenly. It seemed to him as if he were repeating words he had heard somebody say long ago, and the feeling puzzled him and made him stop short.
Phil was standing quite still now, thinking more than he often did. Thoughtlessness was his failing, and he was often and often led away by his high spirits; but he was not in the very least a naturally deceitful boy. Indeed, he had never for a moment considered that there was any deceit or cowardice in hiding away from his parents until it pleased him to show himself.