“But you’re not that kind, Carl. Only in this case there’s so much at stake you hardly do yourself justice. Remember how Grant went at it, and when he found that Lee met all of his tactics so cleverly he got his back up and said he’d fight it out on that line if it took all summer.”
“I see what you mean, and I’m game enough to say the same thing!” declared the other, with a ring of resolution in his voice.
Tom felt wonderfully relieved. He knew that Carl was capable of great things if only he succeeded in conquering his one little failing of seeing the gloomy side of passing events.
“Well, here we are at Dock’s place. It’s not a particularly lovely home for any fellow, is it? But then his father is known to be a hard drinker, and the mother finds it a tough job to keep her family in clothes and food. My folks feel sorry for her, and do what they can at times to help her out, though she’s too proud to ask for assistance.”
“Dock promises to be as bad as his father, I’m afraid, only so far he hasn’t taken to drinking,” remarked Carl.
“There’s some hope for him if only he keeps away from that,” ventured Tom. “But let’s knock on the door.”
No sooner had his knuckles come in contact with the panel than there was a furious barking within. Like most poor families the Phillips evidently kept several dogs; indeed, Dock had always been a great lover of animals, and liked to be strutting along the main street of Lenox with a string of dogs tagging at his heels.
A harsh voice was heard scolding the dogs, who relapsed into a grumbling and whining state of obedience.
“That’s Dock himself,” said Carl. “They mind him all right, you see. I hope he opens the door for us, and not his father.”
Just then the Phillips door was drawn back.