“I don’t want any thanks,” grumbled Toby. “I didn’t do anything to make a fuss over. Gee, I almost wish I’d left you there!”
“I’m sorry,” said Arnold again, “but you know the way fathers and relatives are. They think they have to make a speech about such things. It’s a beastly bore, I know, but I rather wish you’d come, Toby.”
“Oh, all right. I suppose I’ll have to. But the next time you try to drown yourself you’ll have to find some one else to pull you out!”
The ordeal wasn’t very bad, however, after all. Mr. Deering was very earnest, and shook hands with Toby twice and patted him once on the back, but he evidently appreciated the fact that the boy was unhappily embarrassed and so made his expression of gratitude mercifully brief. But later, when Toby was toasting his shins in front of the library fire, he traitorously returned to the subject in a roundabout way.
“Toby,” he said, “Arnold tells me you are going to Yardley Hall School this fall.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s fine. It will be nice for Arnold, too. You boys will have a very jolly time there, I’ll wager. Neither of you should forget, though, that having a good time isn’t the sole reason for being there. Last year Arnold rather—ah—rather neglected work, I fear. You must set him a good example of diligence, Toby.”
“I studied a lot more than I needed to,” said Arnold defensively. “Gee, you ought to see how some of the fellows loaf!”