"Thank you, sir," said Max.
And he was turning to leave the room, when his mother sprang forward and stopped him.
"No, no! Don't go like that! My boy! George! Don't say good-bye yet. Take a little time. Let him try a little trouble of his own for a change. He has made up his mind, he says. I'm sure he's old enough. Leave him alone."
Max put his arm round his mother, gave her a warm kiss, disengaged himself, and left the room.
The poor woman was almost hysterical.
"He means it, George! He means it this time!" she moaned.
And her husband, though he laughed at her, and though he said to himself that he did not care, was inclined to agree with her.
Max went straight up to his own room, and began to do his packing with much outward cheerfulness. Indeed he felt no depression over the dashing step he was taking, although he felt sore over the parting with home and his mother and sisters.
He was debating within himself whether he should try to see Carrie before he went, or whether he should only leave a note to be given to her after he was gone, when he heard the voice of his sister Doreen calling him. He threw open the door and shouted back.
She was in the hall.