“Yes, papa,” said Helen, with rather a troubled look.
“Danby sees that he was wrong, and is holding out the right hand of good fellowship. Depend upon it that we shall have a strong tie between those two boys. They will go to a public school together, help one another with their studies, and become friends for life. Hah! Yes. Sit down, my dear,” continued the doctor, rubbing his hands. “My kind regards to Sir James and Lady Danby, that I greatly appreciate their kindness, and that Dexter shall come and spend the day with Edgar on Friday.”
Helen wrote the note, which was despatched, and the doctor smiled, and looked highly satisfied.
“You remember how obstinate Sir James was about boys?”
“Yes, papa. I heard a part of the conversation, and you told me the rest.”
“To be sure. You see my selection was right. Dexter behaved like a little hero over that adventure.”
“Yes,” said Helen; “he was as brave as could be.”
“Exactly. All justification of my choice. I don’t want to prophesy, Helen, but there will be a strong friendship between those boys from that day. Edgar, the weak, well-born boy, will always recognise the manly confidence of Dexter, the er—er, well, low-born boy, who in turn will have his sympathies aroused by his companion’s want of—er—well, say, ballast.”
“Possibly, papa.”
“My dear Helen, don’t speak like that,” said the doctor pettishly. “You are so fond of playing wet blanket to all my plans.”