“That I may wear it as a reward from you, and a token of victory in moral courage.”
“Well, but, my dear boy, if the laurels are to be looked at as a reward from myself, I cannot crown you till I am satisfied that you have won them.”
“Exactly so, auntie; now that is just what I am going to show you.”
“Do so, dear boy, and I shall be only too rejoiced to make the chaplet, and to place it with my own hands on your head.”
“Well then, dear aunt, you have heard all about this wretched business of the race; you may be sure that it has made me feel very small and very foolish.”
“I can quite understand that,” said Miss Huntingdon; “and I have felt very sorry for you in the matter; but I hope it may turn out for good, and make you a little more cautious.”
“I hope so too, auntie; but this is not the point with me just now. I want to get credit, from you at any rate, for a little bit, perhaps only a very little bit, of moral heroism or courage.”
“Well, Walter?”
“Ah, now, auntie, that ‘well’ didn’t sound well. I’m afraid I shan’t get much credit or encouragement from you.”
“Let me hear all about it, dear boy,” said his aunt kindly.