“No; but I dare say I can help you. I shall be very glad to help you if I can.”
Tom did not say “Thank you,” for he was quite absorbed in the thought that Wakem’s son did not seem so spiteful a fellow as might have been expected.
“I say,” he said presently, “do you love your father?”
“Yes,” said Philip, colouring deeply; “don’t you love yours?”
“Oh yes—I only wanted to know,” said Tom, rather ashamed of himself, now he saw Philip colouring and looking uncomfortable. He found much difficulty in adjusting his attitude of mind toward the son of Lawyer Wakem, and it had occurred to him that if Philip disliked his father, that fact might go some way toward clearing up his perplexity.
“Shall you learn drawing now?” he said, by way of changing the subject.
“No,” said Philip. “My father wishes me to give all my time to other things now.”
“What! Latin and Euclid, and those things?” said Tom.
“Yes,” said Philip, who had left off using his pencil, and was resting his head on one hand, while Tom was learning forward on both elbows, and looking with increasing admiration at the dog and the donkey.
“And you don’t mind that?” said Tom, with strong curiosity.