“I will answer him myself,” said David, rising, as though he were going at once to do it. But he only walked to the window and stood looking out.
“David,” said Mr Caldwell, “put away your books, and come home with me.”
“No, I cannot do that,” said David, shortly.
He did not turn round to answer, and there was not another word spoken for a while. By and by Mr Caldwell rose, and said, in his slow way:
“David, my lad, the only thing that you have to do in this matter is to see that you bear it well. The accusation will give but small concern to your mother, in comparison with the knowledge that her son has been indulging in an angry and unchristian spirit.” And then he went away.
He did not go very far, however. It was getting late, and, in the gathering darkness, and the unaccustomed silence of the place, the house seemed very dreary and forsaken to him, and he turned back before he reached the gate.
“David,” said he kindly, opening the door, “come away home with me.”
But David only answered as he had done before.
“No, I cannot do that.”
He said it in a gentler tone, however, and added: