“You hold your tongue. Little do you know what I’ve got in front of me to-day.”
“What can it be? You’re not going courting an old widow with twelve children, are you?”
“If you want to know, I’m going to that schoolmaster fellow, and going to wring my savings-bank book out of him.”
Louise sat up at this. “My great goodness!” she said.
Yes; he had been working himself up to this for a year or more, and now he was going to do it. To-day he would show what he was made of—whether he was a snivelling child, or a man that could stand up to any dressing-gown in the world. He was shaving for the first time—quite true. And the reason was that it was no ordinary day, but a great occasion.
His toilet over, he put on his best hat with a flourish, and set out.
Louise stayed at home all the morning, waiting for his return. And at last she heard him on the stairs.
“Puh!” he said, and stood still in the middle of the room.
“Well? Did you get it?”
He laughed, wiped his forehead, and drew a green-covered book from his coat-pocket. “Here we are, my girl—there’s fifty crowns a month for three years. It’s going to be a bit of a pinch, with fees and books, and living and clothes into the bargain. But we’ll do it. Father was one of the right sort, I don’t care what they say.”