A considerable silence followed, the host showing no disposition to break it. Cecil was the first to speak.
"Harvey wears patches on his knees," he informed the company. "What is there for dessert, mother?"
Mrs. Craig whispered the important information; the radiant son straightway published it to the world: "Plum pudding!—I like that—only I hope it has hard sauce."
Which it ultimately proved to have—and to Mrs. Borland's great dismay. For David, loyal to ancient ways, yet ever open to the advantage of modern improvement, passed back his plate for a second helping.
"I used to think the kind of gravy-sauce you slashed all over it was the whole thing—but I believe that ointment's got it beat," he said; whereat Mrs. Borland laid her spoon upon her plate, the ointment and the anointed untasted more.
VI
AN INVESTMENT
David Borland stood quite a little while gazing at the contents of the window before he entered the tiny store. Rather scanty those contents were; a few candy figures, chiefly chocolate creations, a tawdry toy or two, some samples of biscuits judiciously assorted, a gaudy tinselled box of chewing-gum, and a flaming card that proclaimed the merits of a modern brand of tea.
These all duly scrutinized, David pushed the door open and entered the humble place of business. The opening door threw a sleigh-bell, fastened above it, into quite an hysterical condition, and this in turn was answered by hurrying footsteps from the inner room. It was Harvey who appeared.
"Good-morning, Mr. Borland," the boy said respectfully. "Did you want to see mother?" he enquired a little anxiously; "she's gone to the market, but I think she'll soon be back."