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For a moment Hepsey struggled to reconcile her code of ethics with her idea of good manners, and then replied: "Why say, 'Mrs. Maxwell, it was awfully good of you to ask me, and I don't believe she'll notice anything wrong about that." "Hm!" Nickey retorted scornfully. "Seems pretty much like the same thing to me." "Oh no! Not in the least. Now what will you wear when we go to the rectory?"
There was something in Nickey's tone and look that excited Mrs. Betty's curiosity, and made his mother stop knitting and look at him anxiously over her glasses. "That is very good for a start," Mrs. Betty commended. "How did you raise all that, Nickey?" For a moment Nickey colored hotly, looked embarrassed, and made no reply. Then mustering up his courage, and laughing, he began: "Well, Mrs.
When he appeared at supper Mrs. Burke did not say anything; but after the dishes were washed she took him apart and listened to his version of the affair. "Nicholas Burke," she said, "if this thing occurs again I shall punish you in a way you won't like." "Well, I'm awfully sorry," said Nickey, "but it didn't seem to feaze Mr. Maxwell a little bit.
The result was that he and I were talking at the same time, our spoken thoughts colliding in mid-air and making gibberish. The constable grew more imperative, and perforce I had to listen. Nickey was heaving on the anchor till I thought he'd burst a blood-vessel. When the constable got done with his threats and warnings, I asked him who he was.
"I was afraid that it would not draw, but it really does, you see. This will be more fun than a month at the seashore; and to-morrow we are going to have you and Nickey dine with us in the tent; so don't make any other engagement. Don't forget."
In the course of the evening Mrs. Maxwell took occasion to inquire what progress they were making, thereby unconsciously challenging a somewhat surprising recountal. "Well," Nickey replied readily, "we've got forty-six cents in the treasury; that's just me, you know; I keep the cash in my pants pocket." Then he smiled uneasily, and fidgeted in his chair.
His mother began: "Nicholas Burke, what in the name of conscience does all this idiotic performance mean, I'd like to know?" Nickey closed his knife. Gazing serenely down at his mother, he replied: "How'd I know the blamed missionary push was goin' to meet on the front porch, I'd like to know? Me and Oliver Wendell was just playin' the house was on fire.
It seems to me from what them books say, that when you go visitin' you've got to tell lies like a sinner; and you can't tell the truth till you get home with the door shut. I never was good at lyin'; I always get caught." "It isn't exactly lyin', Nickey; its just sayin' nice things, and keepin' your mouth shut about the rest. Now suppose you dropped a fork under the table, what'd you say?"
As Charley rose to the occasion and quickened his pace, the heat of the sun, the violent exercise of riding bareback, and the nervous excitement produced by the horror of the situation, threw Nickey into a profuse sweat. The bluing began to run.
He was too shy to speak of it, to his mother last of all, as is the nature of a boy, and had to rely on an observant and receptive mind for the earlier steps in his quest. When Maxwell boarded with them, Nickey had discovered that he was won't to exercise with dumb-bells each morning before breakfast. The very keenness of his desire to be initiated, held him silent.
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