“Thank you, Father.”
Accordingly the dream that Peter had so long cherished really came true. The motorcycle was purchased, and the crate containing it was set down at the Jacksons’ door the day before Easter.
Peter had planned not to say a word to Nat as to where it came from and therefore was not a little chagrined when both the members of the Jackson household jumped at once to the conclusion that the Coddington Company had sent it. Nat’s mother, who, as Peter well knew, was a very proud woman, immediately refused to accept any more favors from that source and in consequence poor Peter was driven to confess his part in the mystery.
“But, Peter, my dear boy, you can’t afford any such present as this. How have you the money to pay for so magnificent a gift to Nat? You, too, are working for your living and although you have no one dependent on you I am certain you do not possess a sufficient bank account to warrant your making such an extravagant purchase. It is like your big, kind, generous heart to want to do it, but of course Nat and I cannot let you take all your savings and give them away. How did you manage to get the motorcycle anyway?”
“I borrowed part of the money,” explained Peter reluctantly.
“Oh, Peter, Peter! Borrowing is a dreadful habit! Never borrow money. You had much better go without almost anything than borrow money to get it.”
“But I am paying up the loan week by week. My—the man I borrowed it from is making it very easy for me, and is in no hurry for the whole sum. You had better let me have my way, Mrs. Jackson. I am getting good wages and shall soon be earning even larger ones. I might blow in my spare cash on something dreadful—something much worse than a motorcycle,” pleaded Peter, teasingly.
Nat’s mother shook her head.
“I am not one bit afraid that you would.”
“Oh, you never can tell,” chuckled Peter. “Besides, can’t you see that I shall have twice as much fun with my own motorcycle if Nat has one too? It is no earthly fun to go riding by myself.”