“Where have you been?” he asked, turning around to greet the boy who came in, followed by Prince.
“Oh, such a long story, father!” he cried, flushed; his eyes sparkling as he flung back the dark hair from his forehead. “You can't even guess!”
“Never mind now,” said the old gentleman, testily; “your stories are always long; the paper hasn't come—strange, indeed, that one must needs be so annoyed! do ring that bell again.”
So the bell was pulled; and a porter popped in his head.
“What is it, sir?”
“The paper,” said the old gentleman, irritably; “hasn't it come yet?”
“No, sir,” said the man; and then he repeated, “taint in yet, please, sir.”
“Very well—you said so once; that's all,” waving his hand; then as the door closed, he said to his son, “That pays one for coming to such an out-of-the-way country place as this, away from papers—I never will do it again.”
As the old gentleman, against the advice of many friends who knew his dependence on externals, had determined to come to this very place, the boy was not much startled at the decisive words. He stood very quietly, however, until his father finished. Then he said:
“It's too bad, father! supposing I tell you my story? Perhaps you'll enjoy hearing it while you wait—it's really quite newspaperish.”