"Why not?" asked Mr. Worboise, with some surprise, and more than a hint of dissatisfaction. "Your mother hasn't been objecting, has she?"
"I am not aware that my mother knows of the invitation," answered Tom, trying to hide his discomfort in formality of speech.
"Well, I said nothing about it, I believe. But I accepted for you at the same time that I declined for myself. You saw the letter—I left it for you."
"Yes, sir, I did."
"Well, in the name of Heaven, what do you mean? You answer as if you were in the witness-box. I am not going to take any advantage of you. Speak out, man. Why won't you go to Boxall's?"
"Well, sir, to tell the truth, I didn't think he behaved quite well to me yesterday. I happened to be a few minutes late, and—"
"And Boxall blew you up; and that's the way you take to show your dignified resentment! Bah!"
"He ought to behave to me like a gentleman."
"But how is he, if he isn't a gentleman? He hasn't had the bringing up you've had. But he's a good, honest fellow, and says what he means."
"That is just what I did, sir. And you have always told me that honesty is the best policy."