Like
creatures in a nightmare, they moved stiffly, one might have said
creakingly, up the stairs and received each--a bedroom candle!
"Good night, children," said the absent-minded old man. The two
gurgled out some sounds which were intended for words and doged behind
the bedroom door.
"They've put us to bed!" Abner's black eyes flashed fire. His nervous
hands clutched at the collar Ross had lent him. "That's what I get for
coming here with you, Ross Pryor!" And tears of humiliation stood in
his eyes.
In his turn Ross showed no resentment. "What I'm worried about is my
mother," he confessed. "She's so sharp about finding out things. She
wouldn't tease me--she'd just be sorry for me. But she'll think I went
home with you."
"I'd like to see my mother make a fuss about my calling on the girls!"
growled Abner, glad to let his rage take a safe direction.
"Calling on the girls! Have we called on any girls?" demanded
clear-headed, honest Ross.
"Not exactly--yet," admitted Abner, reluctantly. "Come on--let's go to
bed. Mr. Claiborne asked us, and he's the head of this household.
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