"Some people have all the luck," Bottles said, enviously. "Things don't get sorted out equally at all--some get mothers and some get dentists. Jolly glad, all the same, Lester. You didn't expect her down, did you?"
"No, and when the old doc. sent for me I made sure it was the milkman's pony," Dick said, grinning.
"That's what it is to have a guilty conscience," laughed Bottles, whose name, by the way, happened to be Glass. "Great Scott, you're dressed; and I'm still pounding at this beastly collar, and it only gets worse. What on earth am I going to do?"
"Dodge matron, and buy some new ones at the stores when you get in," counselled Dick, giving his hair a furious brushing. He dived into his locker for a new cap. "So long, old man; hope the dentist won't be very beastly. See you to-night." He clattered down the corridor, leaving Mr. Glass gazing ruefully at his murky collar.
Mrs. Lester was standing at the window of the drawing-room, looking out upon the rather dismal shrubs of the school garden. She turned to meet Dick, with the delightful smile that made her look only old enough to be his sister.
"Ready? and so spruce!" she said. "Did you bring your overcoat, Dick?"
"It's outside," Dick answered. His eyes dwelt upon her lovingly. "I say, mother, you do look stunning!"
Other people had had the same thought that morning, looking at the dainty figure in the plain suit of dark brown. Her little face, with its wild-rose colouring, looked out from a great collar of brown furs, under a big hat; and pinned in her muff was a knot of violets and boronia that lent their fragrance to her sweetness. Dick could not have told you what she wore, only he knew that everything about her, from the curly hair under her brown hat to the dainty feet in the brown suede shoes, was perfection.
"Not one of the chaps has a mother like you," he told her, stumbling over the eager words. "Some of 'em have awful old squaws of mothers----"
She put a hand over his mouth, smiling into his eyes.
"And if I were the most awful old squaw alive you wouldn't think it, and neither do they," she said. "You'd be just as glad to see me if I were ugly and dowdy, Dickie-boy."
"I would, but I'm jolly glad you're not," returned her son. "I'm just frightfully proud when you come to school, and you should hear what the fellows say about you. So there!" He tucked her hand into his arm--she had blushed like a girl at his words--and half pulled her out of the room. "Come along, or someone'll come and talk to you, and that would waste an awful lot of precious time."