“Yes, father,” said Dick, who was enjoying what he called the fun.
“Let me see; you have a cap, have you not?”
“No, papa; only my hat.”
“What! no straw hat?”
“No, papa.”
“My good boy, how can you be so absurd? Now, ask your own common sense—is a tall silk-napped hat a suitable thing to wear boating and inspecting mines?”
“It—it’s a very good one, papa,” replied Arthur, for want of something better to say.
“Good one! Absurd! Velvet is good, but who would go clambering up cliffs in velvet!”
“Taff would if he might,” said Dick to himself, as he recalled his brother’s intense longing for a brown silk-velvet jacket, such as he had seen worn by one of his father’s friends.
“Dick, go with your brother to the little shop there round the corner. I saw straw hats hanging up. Buy him one. I’m going to write a letter. There, I’ll give you a quarter of an hour.”