Dexter glanced at Helen, but she kept her eyes averted, and the boy went slowly out, keeping his gaze fixed upon her all the time.
“A young scamp!” said the doctor, as soon as they were alone. “I’m afraid I shall have to send him back.”
Helen looked at him.
“I expected him to be a little wild,” continued the doctor; “but he is beyond bearing. What do you say, my dear? Too bad, is he not?”
Helen was silent for a few moments.
“It is too soon to say that, papa,” she replied at last. “There is a great deal in the boy that is most distasteful, but, on the other hand, I cannot help liking the little fellow.”
“Yes; that’s just it,” cried the doctor. “I feel as if I should like to give him a sound thrashing, but, at the same time, I feel that I could not raise a hand against him. What’s to be done? Shall I send him back, and choose another?”
“No, no, papa. If you intend to adopt a boy, let us keep this one, and see what he turns out.”
Just then the bell rang for lunch, and a minute after Dexter came running down into the room, with a smile, as if nothing was the matter, shining out of his eyes.
“I say, wasn’t that the dinner-bell?” he cried. “I am so precious hungry.”