Mrs. Tudor did not directly respond to this request.
"Will you tell me, Geoff," she said, "what has put all this into your head? What things are you in want of?"
Geoff hesitated. Fancied wants, like fancied grievances, have an annoying trick of refusing to answer to the roll-call when distinctly summoned to do so.
"There's lots of things," he began. "I should have a pair of proper football boots, instead of just an old common pair with ribs stuck on, you know, like I have. All the fellows have proper ones when they're fifteen or so."
"But you are not fifteen."
"Well, I might wait about the boots till next term. But I do really want a pair of boxing-gloves dreadfully," he went on energetically, as the idea occurred to him; "you know I began boxing this term."
"And don't they provide boxing-gloves? How have you managed hitherto?" asked his mother, in surprise.
"Oh, well, yes—there are gloves; but of course it's much nicer to have them of one's own. It's horrid always to seem just one of the lot that can't afford things of their own."
"And if you are not rich—and I dare say nearly all your schoolfellows are richer than you"—said Elsa, "is it not much better not to sham that you are?"
"Sham," repeated Geoff, roughly. "Mamma, I do think you should speak to Elsa.—If you were a boy——" he added, turning to his sister threateningly. "I don't want to sham about anything; but it's very hard to be sent to a school when you can't have everything the same as the others."