Tops of a kind could be bought for sixpence, but the really superior tops—the tops which befitted the age and dignity of William and Ginger—cost one shilling, and William and Ginger, never daunted by difficulties, determined to raise the sum by the next day.
“We mus’ get a shilling each,” said William, with his expression of grim and fixed determination, “an’ we’ll buy ’em to-morrow.”
“Well, you know what my folks are like,” said Ginger despondently. “You know what it’s like tryin’ to get money out of ’em. ‘Save your pocket money,’ they say. If they’d give me enough I’d be able to save. What’s sixpence? Could anyone save sixpence? It’s gone in a day—sixpence is. An’ they say ‘save,’” he ended bitterly.
“Well,” said William, “all I can say is that no one’s folks can be stingier than mine, and that if I can get a shilling——”
“Yes, but you’ve not got it yet, have you?” taunted Ginger.
“No,” said William confidently, “but you wait till to-morrow!”
*****
William had spoken confidently, but he felt far from confident. He knew by experience the difficulty of extorting money from his family. He had tried pathos, resentment, indignation, pleading, and all had failed on every occasion. He was generally obliged to have recourse to finesse. He only hoped that on this occasion Fate would provide circumstances on which he could exercise his finesse.
He entered the drawing-room, and it was then that he first saw Mr. Bennison. It was then that he took a violent and definite dislike to Mr. Bennison, yet he had a wild hope that he might be a profitable source of tips. With a mental vision of the tops before his eyes he assumed an expression of virtue and innocence.
“So this,” said Mr. Bennison, with a genial smile, “is the little brother.”