You know
sometimes when you really are pleased you don't show it at once--and
George has been trying so hard. If you'll only show that you're
pleased--"
"Yes--all right!" returned the husband a little impatiently. Clytie had
a sensitive consideration for her son's feelings which struck him at
times as exaggerated. He thought of the delightful secret back in his
own mind; there was no reason for talking any more about the rod until
he bought it; he would manage to replace the dollar abstracted from the
reserve fund.
If he gave absent answers during the meal Clytie seemed to be
preoccupied also. Little Mary, who sat by him, tucked her hand into his
as she prattled.
"Now, George!" said his mother at last suddenly when the rice pudding
had been finished. George rose, clean and red-cheeked, looking more than
ever like a large edition of Baby, in spite of his jacket and
knickerbockers, as he stepped over to his father with a new dignity and
handed him a folded sheet of paper.
"What's this?" asked Langshaw genially opening it.
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