Mrs. Graham always went as far as the gate with him, and he thought they were alone in the hall, but Dick had followed them to the dining-room door. It was holiday-time, yet Dick was going to Chelmsford for an examination. He had come out intending to ask his father before he went to London for half a crown. Dick was just at the age when schoolboys try to appear exactly the reverse from what they are. He squabbled constantly with Dorothy, though he loved her very much, and now, when he heard his father sigh, he put his hands in his pockets as if he didn't care about anything, and went upstairs whistling.
When Dick got to his room, he took a money-box from the mantelpiece and smashed it open with the poker. He had been saving up for a new bat, and the box contained seven shillings. He put the money in his pocket and ran down again in a great hurry.
"Dick! Dick!" exclaimed his mother, catching him. "Come here! Let me brush your collar. How rough your hair is! Dick, you must have a new hat! You can't go into the hall with that one."
"All serene, mother," said the boy, submitting impatiently to be overhauled. "I can buy a new hat and pitch the old one away."
"How grandly some people talk!" said his mother, pinching his ear. "As if the world belonged to them. Well, never mind, dear boy! If you get on well and pass, no one will remember your hat was shabby. Have you got your fare?"
A Telegram
"Oh, mother, how you do worry!" exclaimed Dick, wrenching himself away; "I've got lots of money—heaps!"
He ran across the lawn, and just because he knew she was watching, jumped right over the azalea-bushes and wire fence instead of going out at the gate, and yet the tired look went out of Mrs. Graham's eyes, and a smile crept round her mouth as she watched him.
Dorothy, standing at the dining-room window, saw him go too, and thought how horrid it was of Dick to look so glad when she was so unhappy.
"Boys are always like that," she thought. "They don't care a bit about any one but themselves."