“Ugh!” ejaculated Helen.
The doctor, who was in a most amiable temper, burst into a roar of laughter.
“Well, you are a strange boy, Dexter,” he said, as he wiped his eyes. “You ought to be a naturalist by and by. There, open the window, and put the poor thing outside. You can find plenty another time.”
Dexter obeyed, glad to be out of his quandary, and this time, as he put Sam down, the reptile crawled slowly away into the soft dark night.
He closed the window, and went back to find the doctor and Helen all smiles, and ready to joke instead of scold. Then he went to the piano, and turned over the music, the airs and songs making him feel more and more sad, and again and again he found himself saying—
“Why are they so kind to me now, just as I am going away?”
“Shall I stop!” he said to himself, after a time.
“No: I promised Bob I would come, and so I will.”