“No, sir.”
“Do you think your mother would be pleased to hear of it?”
“I know she wouldn’t,” admitted Fred frankly.
Dr. Gray’s countenance softened.
“I don’t like to be harsh with you, for you meant no impertinence; still, if I am to treat you as my own child, as your parents desire, I believe I shall have to bid you ask Mr. Lee’s pardon. What say you to that? It’s the way I should treat Preston.”
“All right,” replied Fred sadly.
Next morning saw the lad, cap in hand, knocking at the door of the minister’s study. Mary had half-offered to go with him, but he had scorned to accept the sacrifice.
“Come in,” said Mr. Lee, opening the door.
Fred advanced one step into the room. There was an awful pause, during which those very dandelions of yesterday winked at him from a silver vase, and his well-pondered speech began to grow hazy.