The doctor struck the paper in the middle, doubled it up, and then frowned severely as he thrust his gold spectacles up on to his forehead.
“I’ve made a mistake, my dear,—a great mistake.”
“About Dexter!”
“Yes: a very great mistake.”
“But I’m sure he will improve,” said Helen anxiously.
“So am I, my dear. But our mistake is this: we took the boy from the Union schools, and we kept him here at once, where every one knew him and his late position. We ought to have sent him away for two or three years, and he would have come back completely changed, and the past history forgotten.”
“Sent him to a boarding-school!”
“Well—er! Hum! No, not exactly,” said the doctor, pursing up his lips. “Listen here, my dear. The very thing! just as if fate had come to my help.”
The doctor rustled the paper a little, and then began to read—
“‘Backward and disobedient boys.’”