"There were faults on both sides, I fear," said Mr. Blinkhorn, growing a little scandalised by the boy's odd warmth of expression. "I have heard something of what you had to bear with. On the one hand, a father, undemonstrative, stern, easily provoked; on the other, a son, thoughtless, forgetful, and at times it may be even wilful. But you are too sensitive; you think too much of what seems to me a not unnatural (although of course improper) protest against coldness and injustice. I should be the last to encourage a child against a parent, but, to comfort your self-reproach, I think it right to assure you that, in my judgment, the outburst you refer to was very excusable."
"Oh," said Paul, "you do? You call that comfort? Excusable! Why, what the dooce do you mean, sir? You're taking the other side now!"
"This is not the language of penitence, Bultitude," said poor Mr. Blinkhorn, disheartened and bewildered. "Remember, you have put off the Old Man now!"
"I'm not likely to forget that," said Paul; "I only wish I could see my way to putting him on again!"
"You want to be your old self again?" gasped Mr. Blinkhorn.
"Why, of course I do," said Paul angrily; "I'm not an idiot!"
"You are weary of the struggle so soon?" said the other with reproach.
"Weary? I tell you I'm sick of it! If I had only known what was in store for me before I had made such a fool of myself!"
"This is horrible!" said Mr. Blinkhorn—"I ought not to listen to you."
"But you must," urged Paul; "I tell you I can't stand it any longer. I'm not fit for it at my age. You must see that yourself, and you must make Grimstone see it too!"