"Now, Lucy, you ought to think it high time that a boy nearly thirteen years of age should be above coddling," remarked the Doctor, "that is what you and Hetty have done all his life and it is time to stop it. The boy is not working up to his ability here. Composition and music are the only branches in which he receives a high average, these require little or no exertion on his part, but in all other studies his average is low. I really feel a change would benefit him, we might make the trial, should it prove unsatisfactory, it will be easy to take him home again."
After debating for and against the Canadian project, Mr. Allen was at last persuaded to give his consent, and preparations were made for Bo's trip to Canada. Boy-like he was elated at the idea of traveling, especially when he heard he was to undertake the journey alone. When he told his companions about it, they opened their eyes in amazement, and some of their mothers wondered how such a harum-scarum could be trusted so far on the trains.
"Mamma, can't I give a farewell spread for my chums?" "Yes, dear; have them all here on Friday evening. I will get up a nice supper, and Uncle Carroll will show his magic lantern with moving pictures." "Oh, bully for you Ma, dear." "Bully! What did I say about slang, my child?" "Oh, Ma, dear, all the fellows at St. Thomas' use those words, you've got to have something to say when you are pleased, or mad, or surprised—one dear old priest up there says 'Thunder and mud!' when a boy gives a particularly stupid answer at a recitation."
"Oh, well, my son, that is just a funny expression. I don't mind your adopting it, since as you say, you must have some 'expressions.'"
The last evening at home had come. Bo's trunk was packed and the family had assembled in the dining room to have a nice old-fashioned supper. Their boy was going away, but the grand harmony of the evening was not destroyed. Uncle Carroll sang merry songs, Aunt Lucy played on her guitar, Bolax gave his best pieces on the piano, in fact, they had a regular concert.
Somehow, Bolax felt that he had never loved his parents as he did now; he thought his mother's face so matronly, yet so gentle, was the sweetest face he ever saw. He bid "good-night" quite bravely, but found it hard to suppress his sobs as he clung to his mother's neck, for our light-hearted boy was tender and loving as a girl.
Early next morning the house was astir. Hetty packed a basket of lunch filled with everything she knew the boy liked. Farewells were spoken, the carriage drove up and Mr. Allen accompanied his son to New York, where he placed him on the train bound for Quebec.