Part 29 (1/2)
”Well enough! But your head?”
”Oh! it's better, much better now.”
”But won't you be alarmed as soon as you get on the water? It may be a little rough.”
”Oh, I'm not afraid of the water!” said Arthur boldly; and then he winced, for d.i.c.k gave him a kick under the table.
”Very well, then,” said Mr Temple, ”you shall go. But you can't go like that, Arthur. I did not see to your clothes. Haven't you a suit of flannels or tweeds?”
”No, papa.”
”How absurd of you to come down dressed like that!”
Arthur coloured.
”You can't go in boats and climbing up and down rocks in an Eton jacket and white collar. Here, d.i.c.k, lend him a suit of yours.”
”Yes, father,” said d.i.c.k, who was enjoying what he called the fun.
”Let me see; you have a cap, have you not?”
”No, papa; only my hat.”
”What! no straw hat?”
”No, papa.”
”My good boy, how can you be so absurd? Now, ask your own common sense--is a tall silk-napped hat a suitable thing to wear boating and inspecting mines?”
”It--it's a very good one, papa,” replied Arthur, for want of something better to say.
”Good one! Absurd! Velvet is good, but who would go clambering up cliffs in velvet!”
”Taff would if he might,” said d.i.c.k to himself, as he recalled his brother's intense longing for a brown silk-velvet jacket, such as he had seen worn by one of his father's friends.
”d.i.c.k, go with your brother to the little shop there round the corner.
I saw straw hats hanging up. Buy him one. I'm going to write a letter.
There, I'll give you a quarter of an hour.”
Mr Temple left the room, and as Arthur jumped up, scarlet with indignation, to pace up and down, d.i.c.k laid his face upon his arm in a clear place and began to laugh.
”It's absurd,” said Arthur in indignant tones. ”Your clothes will not fit me properly, and I hate straw hats.”
”I wouldn't go,” said d.i.c.k, lifting his merry face.
”Yes,” cried Arthur furiously, ”that's just what you want, but I shall go.”
”All right! I should like you to come. Go and slip on my flannels; they're sure to be dry by now.”
”Slip on your rubbishy old flannels!” cried Arthur contemptuously; ”and a pretty guy I shall look. I shall be ashamed to walk along the cliff.”