“Dexter, papa wishes you to learn these things.”
“Do you?” said the boy.
“Yes, very much. I should like to see you master them all.”
“Then I will. See if I don’t,” he cried.
“That’s right. Try and please Mr Limpney by being energetic.”
“Yes, I’ll try,” said Dexter; “but I don’t think he’ll be pleased.”
“I shall be. Now, get out your last lessons over which you failed so dismally, and I’ll try and help you.”
“Will you?” cried the boy, in delighted tones, and he hurriedly obtained his folio, pens, and ink, feeling in such high spirits that if Bob Dimsted had been at hand to continue his temptations they would have been of no avail.
The orange question was first debated, and tried in two or three different ways without success. Then it was laid aside for the time being, while the stage-coaches were rolled out and started, one from London to York, the other from York to London.
“Look here,” said Dexter, “I’ll try the one that starts from London, while you try the one from York.”