“I say, you’ll come too, won’t you?” he cried eagerly.
“No, Dexter; not this time.”
The boy’s forehead grew wrinkled all over.
“Come, you are pretending that you do not want to go.”
“I don’t,” said the boy, hanging his head. “I want to stay here along with you.”
“Perhaps I should like you to stay, Dexter,” said Helen; “but I wish you to go and behave nicely, and you can tell me all about it when you come back.”
“And how soon may I come back?”
“I don’t suppose till the evening, but we shall see. Now, go and change those things directly. What would papa say if he saw you?”
Dexter went slowly up to his room, and came down soon after to look for Helen.
He found her busy writing letters, so he went off on tiptoe to the study, where the doctor was deep in his book, writing with a very severe frown on his brow.