“Dick’s better,” said the boy sharply.
“No, it is not, sir; Dex.”
“Well, Dix, then,” said the boy, throwing one stone up high enough to touch the ceiling, and in catching at it over-handed, failing to achieve his object, and striking it instead, so that it flew against the wall with a loud rap.
“Put those stones in your pocket, sir,” cried the doctor to the boy, who ran and picked up the one which had fallen, looking rather abashed. “Another inch, and it would have gone through that glass.”
“Yes. Wasn’t it nigh!” cried the boy.
“Here, stop! Throw them out of that window.”
The boy’s brow clouded over.
“Let me give them to some one at the school; they’re such nice round ones.”
“I said, throw them out of the window, sir.”
“All right,” said the boy quickly; and he threw the pebbles into the garden.