Dick certainly considered this a little strong even for a parent. But somehow the advice stuck, for all that, and he remembered it afterwards.
“As to other matters,” said the father, “your mother, I know, has spoken for us both. Be honest to everybody, most of all yourself, and remember a boy can fear God without being a prig— Ah, here’s the train.”
It was a dismal farewell, that between father and son, when the moment of parting really came. Neither of them had expected it would be so hard, and when at last the whistle blew, and their hands parted, both were thankful the train slipped swiftly from the station and turned a corner at once.
After the bustle and excitement of the last few days, Dick found the loneliness of the empty carriage decidedly unpleasant, and for a short time after leaving town, was nearer moping than he had ever been before.
It would be an hour before the train reached X—, where Heathcote would get in. It would be all right then, but meanwhile he wished he had something to do.
So he fell to devouring the provisions his mother and sisters had put up for his special benefit, and felt in decidedly better heart when the meal was done.
Then he hauled down his hat-box, and tried on his new “pot,” and felt still more soothed.
Then he extricated his new dressing-case from his travelling-bag, and examined, with increasing comfort, each several weapon it contained, until the discovery of a razor in an unsuspected corner completed his good cheer, and he began to whistle.
In the midst of this occupation the train pulled up, and Heathcote, with his hat-box and bag invaded the carriage.
“Hallo, old man,” said Dick with a nod, “you’ve turned up, then? Look here, isn’t this a stunning turnout? Don’t go sitting down on my razor, I say.”