go. There's no nonsense about me, nor my wife, either. If your father consents to having you come to my place, you'll learn more than you would at any military academy. Stuff and nonsense! Don't talk to me! I know!"
Dick could not repress a shudder as he thought of his uncle's gloomy home in Dankville, a house amid a clump of fir trees, so dark, so quiet and so lonesome that it reminded him of a vault in the cemetery.
"I think my father has made up his mind to send me to the military academy," said the boy.
"Well, perhaps I can make him change his mind. He doesn't know what's good for boys."
How Uncle Ezra Larabee could understand what lads needed, never having had any sons of his own, was more than Dick could fathom, but he said nothing.
"I'll wait and see your father," went on the crabbed man.
"I can get my automobile and take you to the bank," suggested Dick.
"No, you might burst a tire, and that would cost something to fix."
Dick could hardly repress a smile at the idea of a possible injured tire standing in the way of an auto ride.
"What's that girl walking back and forth so much for in the next room?" asked Uncle Ezra suddenly.
