But Gerald hesitated. He shot an entreating glance at Dan, and, finding no assistance forthcoming from that quarter, took the plunge.
“I want to go to school, father! And—and I’m going, too!”
“Hold on, Gerald! You mean that you’re going if I am willing that you should, don’t you?”
There was a moment of rebellion and then Gerald nodded and took his father’s hand contritely. Mr. Pennimore put his arm over the boy’s shoulders and drew him against him.
“That’s better, son,” he said kindly. “We don’t allow insubordination on this ship, do we?” He turned and looked closely at Dan who had perched himself on the balustrade. The look said: “This is your doing, my friend,” and Dan returned it steadily.
“Let’s talk this over,” said Mr. Pennimore. “Bring out some chairs, Gerald.” Gerald disappeared through the nearest door and came back with two willow chairs. Dan helped him through the door with them.
“Here’s yours, sir,” said Gerald. “And here’s yours, Vinton.” Then he tossed a couple of cushions onto the tiles and dropped onto them cross-legged. “And here’s mine,” he laughed.
“Now,” said Mr. Pennimore. “What is this? A conspiracy?” He was looking at Dan rather than his son and Dan answered.
“No, sir, not exactly. Gerald said he wanted to go to school and I asked him why he didn’t come to Yardley. I’d like him to, Mr. Pennimore. I thought that maybe if he entered next year he and I could get a room together, that is, sir, if you didn’t mind.”
“Yardley, eh?” mused Mr. Pennimore. “Well, Yardley’s a good school from all I hear, and I’ve done one or two things for it and so have a little interest in it. But do you think that this boy of mine would get on all right at a boarding-school, Dan? You know he isn’t what you’d call a vigorous boy, nor is he very—what shall I say?—self-depending.”