"Have I? Well, I'm glad of that; that's something, isn't it? No man likes to acknowledge utter defeat; I'm certain I don't."
I dug away with the putter for a minute. Then I said:
"If I asked dad to let you stay, don't you think he would?"
"Perhaps; but I wouldn't want to."
"Oh, if you want to go away, all right," I grumbled.
"I meant that I wouldn't care to remain just because of a whim of yours. If I believed that by staying I could accomplish something; if I thought that you wanted me to stay, knowing that it meant hard study—much harder than any you've been doing—and cheerful obedience; in short, Raymond, if I knew that I could honestly earn my salary, I'd stay."
He took out his pipe and filled it. I shoved the earth back into the hole in the turf. Nobody said anything for a while.
"I don't mind study—much," I said presently.
"It hasn't been hard yet," he answered.
"And I don't mind doing what you tell me to. You're—you're not like
Simpkins, Browning, and Gabbett."