“Well, yes, papa.”
“Then, for goodness’ sake, let a double quantity be rubbed at once upon that poor boy’s head. Really it is cut so short that he is hardly fit to be seen without a cap on.”
“I’m afraid you will have to wait some time,” said Helen, with a smile.
“Humph! yes, I suppose so,” said the doctor gruffly. “That barber ought to be flogged. Couldn’t put the boy in a wig, of course.”
“O papa! no.”
“Well, I said no,” cried the doctor testily. “Must wait, I suppose; but we can make him look decent.”
“Are you—are you going—” faltered Helen.
“Going? Going where!”
“Going to have him with us, papa, or to let him be with the servants?” said Helen rather nervously; but she regretted speaking the next moment.
“Now, my dear child, don’t be absurd,” cried the doctor. “How am I to prove my theory by taking the boy from the lowest station of society and making him, as I shall do, a gentleman, if I let him run wild with the servants!”