CHAPTER VII
On the following night David walked into the Parlour about eight o'clock, hung up his hat with the air of an emperor, and looked round for Daddy.
'Look here, Daddy! I've got something to say to you, but not down here: you'll be letting out my private affairs, and I can't stand that.'
'Well, come upstairs then, you varmint! You're a poor sort of fellow, always suspecting your friends. Come up—come up with you! I'll humour you!'
And Daddy, bursting with curiosity, led the way upstairs to Dora's sitting-room. Dora was moving about amid a mass of silks, which lay carefully spread out on the table, shade melting into shade, awaiting their transference to a new silk case she had been busy upon.
As the door opened she look up, and when she saw David her face flushed all over.
Daddy pushed the lad in.
'Dora, he's got some news. Out with it, sir!'
And he stood opposite the young fellow, on tiptoe, quivering with impatience.
David put both hands in his pockets, and looked out upon them, radiant.