“And I want you to think about what you’ve said to me to-night,” said Mr. Walton soberly; “about this being your house and about my not being your father. And about trying to sell your bicycle that was really like a present from your own mother--her wish. I want you to ask yourself whether you--I think you call it playing a game, don’t you----? Whether you’re playing the game right with me, and with Mumsy, who worries so much about you. But whether you think of these things or not you must be ready to go to school when it opens. And you must be in the house each night at half past nine. You must pay as much attention to what I tell you as to what some chance acquaintance tells you. You see, Hervey, I’m giving you credit for not originating some of these things you have said to me. Good night.” Hervey did not move away. He was just embarrassed enough to avoid drawing attention to himself by leaving the room. He did not feel like saying good night, and he did not like to go without saying good night. It was not an unworthy embarrassment and Mr. Walton respected it. He rose, a gaunt, bent form, and went out into the kitchen. Hervey could hear him winding the old-fashioned clock that stood on the shelf over the stove. Then he could hear the woodshed door being bolted. Still he stood just where he was. Mr. Walton came slowly through the hall and Hervey could count his slow footfalls on the stair. When the coast was clear he went upstairs himself. CHAPTER XXII WORDS AND ACTIONS Hervey did not ponder upon any of those matters. There was no action in pondering, and he believed in action. He had never intended to rebel against going back to school; his remarks along that line had been quite casual. First and last, he had a good deal of fun in school. I suppose you might call playing hooky part of the fun of going to school. Nor did he have any serious intentions at that time of going west. His remarks on that score had also been quite casual. The thought that did linger with him was that New York (especially Harlem) must be a wonderful place. For the honor of Farrelton and Massachusetts, he was resolved that Harlem Plinkey’s face should be washed with the very first dare he offered. Harlem Hinkey was all that was left now before the opening of school. For several days Hervey walked the straight and narrow path, and though he roamed at large in the evenings, he was always home on time. He was a deft performer on the harmonica and could play _Home Sweet Home_ in funeral time, in march time and in waltz time. He would sit on the counter in his father’s store on evenings when Mr. Walton was at home and play for the two salesgirls to dance. They liked him immensely and adored his outlandish hat. He was on his way home from one of these impromptu affairs one night when he encountered Harlem Hinkey standing in front of the Hinkey million dollar theatre.