“I think it’s very creditable, don’t you, Sid?” “Rather! Wish I could get out and do something like that! It would be jolly, I should think.” Mrs. Morris smiled and patted his shoulder. “I don’t earn enough for my board, too,” corrected Tom. “Just for my lodging. They don’t pay me very much because I’m not there very long, you see. I saved up some money last summer and the summer before. My board comes out of that.” “Bet they don’t pay you enough,” said Sidney convincedly. “I know old man Wright. He’s Billy Wright’s father, you know, Mumsie. He’s a bit of a tightwad, I guess.” “That’s awful slang, Sid,” Mrs. Morris reproved smilingly. “I’m sure you don’t use slang, Tom, do you?” Tom grinned embarrassedly and Sidney chuckled. “I--I’m afraid so, ma’am, sometimes,” owned Tom. “I’ll bet you do! Why, say, Mumsie uses slang herself, Tom!” “Sidney!” “Yes, you do! The other day you said something was ‘the limit.’” “It was the butter we got from the new man,” laughed Mrs. Morris. “And it was the limit, too! Are you going to take this pair of skates, dear?” “Yes’m; and he’s going to lug the other back. I guess you’ll have to wrap them up, Tom. I’m not much good yet.” Tom had to lay his hat aside to do it and somehow losing hold of his hat seemed to increase his embarrassment. When the skates were back in the paper, it was with vast relief that he seized his hat once more. He had been aware during the operation that Mrs. Morris and her son had been talking together in low tones and now, when he stood up to leave, Sidney said: “I say, Tom, Mumsie says----” “No, Sid!” “Well, anyway----” He paused and looked appealingly at his mother. “You say it, Mumsie, please.” “Very well,” replied Mrs. Morris with her pleasant laugh. “Sid and I, Tom, want you to keep those other skates for yourself. They’re a sort of Christmas present from the Morris family. It’s very near Christmas, you know.” “He doesn’t have to wait until Christmas to use them, though, does he?” said Sidney. “And, I say, Mumsie, maybe he’d rather have a pair like mine.” “Would you?” asked Mrs. Morris. “No’m. I mean--I--I’m awfully much obliged--and thank you very much--but I guess I’d rather not,” stammered Tom in an ecstasy of embarrassment. “Don’t be a chump!” begged Sidney. “Of course you’ll take them. Why not? After coming all the way out here to-night and----” “That was part of my work, anyway,” said Tom. “And I wanted to come----” “But that isn’t the reason we want you to have them,” said Mrs. Morris sweetly. “It’s just because you’re--oh, just because you’re a nice boy and we like you. We do, don’t we, Sid?” “Sure,” laughed Sidney. “Say, Tom, you keep them and some day we’ll go out to the pond and I’ll show you how to use a hockey stick.” “Why--why, I suppose--if you really want me to have them----” “We really do, Tom,” said Mrs. Morris. “They’re pretty expensive, though,” Tom demurred anxiously. “And I’ve got a pair already.”