“Then what do you want to know for?”
“Because the spelling is not right. P-i-g-e-o-n spells pigeon, and a bottle is vial not vile, and bearer is spelt with an e in it.”
“Any more mistakes?” said Cox angrily. “It was a bad pen I’d got, and I should like to know how anyone can be expected to spell with a rotten old nib.”
Cox’s weakness in spelling was a cause of many impositions at school, as Mr. Harmer made him write out ten times every word which was not correctly spelt.
“Come, youngster,” said King, “will you take this to Mr. Cottenham’s, or won’t you? If you won’t, I can go myself.”
“I will go with pleasure,” said Alfred, pleased to do anything for anyone at any time, especially for those with whom he now hoped to make friends.
“Here’s the money,” said Cox, winking at King. “Mind you tell Mr. Cottenham that the strap-oil is for yourself—for your trouble in getting the things.”
“Thank you,” replied Alfred, “but I don’t want to be paid for doing a little thing like that.”
“All right, Davidson!” said Cox; “you did us a good turn the other day, and so I want to pay you back for it, you see.”