And then Dorian told her plainly the whole miserable story. At first the mother was angry, but when she saw the troubled face of her boy, she relented, not wishing to add to his misery. She even smiled at the calamitous ending of those books.
"My boy, I see that you have been sorely tempted, and I am sorry that you lost your books. The wetting that Carlia gave you did no harm … but you must have some shoes by tomorrow. Wait."
The mother went to the bureau drawer, opened the lid of a little box, drew from the box a purse, and took from the purse two silver dollars. She handed them to Dorian.
"Go to town again this afternoon and get some shoes."
"But, mother, I hate to take your money. I think I can black my old ones so that they will not look so bad."
"Blacking will not fill the holes. Now, you do as I say. Jump on Nig and go right away."
Dorian put the money in his pocket, then went out to the yard and slipped a bridle on his horse, mounted, and was back to the house.
"Now, Dorian, remember what I say. Get you a nice pair, a nice Sunday pair."
"All right, mother, I will."
He rode off at a gallop. He lingered not by creeks or byways, but went directly to the best shoe store in the city, where he made his purchase. He stopped neither at book store or candy shops. His horse was sweating when he rode in at the home yard. His mother hearing him, came out.