n.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

THE RIGHT PLACE FOR A BACKWARD BOY.

"Where's Dexter?" said the doctor.

"Down the garden," said Helen.

"Humph! Hope he is not getting into fresh mischief."

"I hope not, papa," said Helen; "and really I think he is trying very
hard."

"Yes," said the doctor, going on with his writing. "How are his
knuckles now? can he hold a pen?"

"I think I would let him wait another day or two. And, papa, have you
given him a good talking to about that fight?"

"No. Have you?"

"Yes, two or three times; and he has promised never to fight again."

"My dear Helen, how can you be so absurd?" cried the doctor testily.
"That's just the way with a woman. You ask the boy to promise what he
cannot perform. He is sure to get fighting again at school or
somewhere."

"But it seems such a pity, papa."

"Pooh! pish! pooh! tchah!" ejaculated the doctor, at intervals. "He
gave that young scoundrel a good thrashing, and quite right too. Don't
tell him I said so."

The doctor had laid down his pen to speak, but he took it up again and
began writing, but only to lay it aside once more.

"Dear me! dear me!" he muttered. "I don't seem to get on with my book
as I should like."

He put down his pen again, rose, took a turn or two up and down the
room, and then picked up the newspaper.

"Very awkward of that stupid fellow Limpney," he said, as he began
running down the advertisements.

"What did he say, papa, when you spoke to him?"

"Say? Lot of stuff about losing _prestige_ with his other pupils. Was
sure Lady Danby did not like him to be teaching a boy of Dexter's class
and her son. Confound his impudence! Must have a tutor for the boy of
some kind."

Helen glanced uneasily at her father, and then out into the garden.

"Plenty of schools; plenty of private tutors," muttered the doctor
scanning the advertisements. "Hah!"

"What is it, papa!"

The doctor struck the paper in the middle, doubled it up, and then
frowned severely as he thrust his gold spectacles up on to his forehead.

"I've made a mistake, my dear,--a great mistake."

"About Dexter!"

"Yes: a very great mistake."

"But I'm sure he will improve," said Helen anxiously.

"So am I, my dear. But our mistake is this: we took the boy from the
Union schools, and we kept him here at once, where every one knew him
and his late position. We ought to have sent him away for two or three
years, and he would have come ba