“I didn’t mean that, Mr. Pennimore. What I meant was that he was silly to go into that house, sir.”
“I understand, my boy. But he is silly. By that I mean that he does a great many silly things such as he did yesterday. Unfortunately he hasn’t a mother; she died soon after he was born; and I am away from home a good deal. Gerald has an excellent tutor, but of course Mr. Faunce can’t look after him every minute, and so Gerald is frequently in scrapes. Yesterday he managed to outdo himself. The idea of shutting that poor dog in the play-house and then setting fire to it! Gerald had been reading some story or other about firemen, he tells me, and wanted to try his hand at a rescue. Of course he had no idea that the fire would get out of his control; and it doesn’t seem to have occurred to him that the dog might smother to death before he was rescued. He is very fond of Jack; I gave the dog to him on his twelfth birthday; and he wouldn’t intentionally cause him any pain. The whole thing seems to have been a piece of childish thoughtlessness. What do you think, Vinton?”
“I don’t think he realized what he was doing,” answered Dan eagerly. “I was sort of out of patience with him, sir, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to hurt the dog anyway.”
Mr. Pennimore suppressed a smile. Gerald had told him that Dan had said he ought to be licked!
“Well, I’m pretty fond of that boy of mine,” continued Mr. Pennimore. “He’s the only child I’ve got, you see. I suppose I’m rather foolish about him, but parents are liable to get that way. And so what am I to say to you, my boy? What can I say that will express my feelings, my gratitude?”
Mr. Pennimore’s voice shook, and Dan, rather alarmed and very red and uncomfortable, wished himself away from there. Perhaps Mr. Pennimore saw his embarrassment, for he cleared his throat and went on in quite an ordinary tone of voice.
“All I can do is to thank you, Vinton, and I do that very earnestly. If you were a poor boy I could show my gratitude by making you a present. But as it is I suppose there’s nothing you want, nothing I can give you that you will accept?”
“Thank you, sir,” muttered Dan. “I don’t want anything.”
“You’re a lucky person,” said Mr. Pennimore with a little laugh. He sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the hearth. “You have everything in the world that you want, then?”