Helen did not speak, but gazed back at her father with a suppressed laugh twinkling about the corners of her lips.
“You’re laughing at me, my dear,” said the doctor at last; “but you mark my words—what I say is true. All this is merely the froth of the boy’s nature, of which he is getting rid. But tut, tut, tut! All this must be stopped. First a new cap destroyed by being turned into a bucket, and now a suit of clothes gone.”
“They will do for a garden suit, papa,” said Helen, speaking as if she had had charge of boys for years.
“Well, yes: I suppose so,” said the doctor. “But there: I am not going to worry myself about trifles. The cost of a few suits of clothes are as nothing compared to the success of my scheme. Now let’s go in and see if the young dog has gone to work to change his things.”
The doctor rose and walked up the garden, making comments to his daughter about the course of instruction he intended to pursue with Dexter, and on reaching the house and finding that the object of his thoughts was in his bedroom, he went on to the study just as Maria came from the front door with a letter.
“Letter, eh? Oh, I see. From Lady Danby!”
The doctor opened the letter.
“Any one waiting!” he said.
“Yes, sir. Groom waiting for an answer.”
“I’ll ring, Maria,” said the doctor, and then he smiled and looked pleased. “There, my deaf,” he cried, tossing the note to his daughter. “Now I call that very kind and neighbourly. You see, Sir James and Lady Danby feel and appreciate the fine manly conduct of Dexter over that cattle, and they very wisely think that he not only deserves great commendation, but that the present is a favourable opportunity for beginning an intimacy and companionship.”