Richie! it's outrageous. I don't wonder Mr. Wright is
concerned. It's disgraceful. He ought to be thrashed!"
Dr. Lavendar drew a quick breath and let his pipe-hand fall heavily on
the table beside him. "No, William, no; not thrashed. Not thrashed,
William."
"Well, I don't know," the doctor said, doggedly; "it might do him
good; a squirt of a boy!"
Dr. Lavendar sighed. They smoked silently for a while, and, indeed, it
was not until it was almost time to go home that William burst out
with his own wrongs.
"Confound him!" he ended, "what do you make of it, sir? Why, Dr.
Lavendar, he sent his girl out of the room--didn't want her to talk to
me! You'd have thought I was a case of measles. His one idea was to
get rid of me as quickly as possible."
Dr. Lavendar thrust out his lower lip; then he scratched a match on
the bottom of his chair, and held it out to Danny, who came forward
with instant curiosity, sniffed, sneezed, and plainly hurt, retired to
the hearth-rug.
"William, 'a moral, sensible and well-bred man will not affront--'"
"I'm not feeling affronted."
"Oh, aren't you?"
"No," William declared boldly, "not at all; not in the least! He's not
worth it. But I'm all mixed up."
"Daniel," said Dr. Lavendar, "how dare you lie on the rug? Willy, when
I was young--I mean when I was younger--we children were never allowed
to come nearer the fire than the outside edge of the hearth-rug.
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