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He walked into the vicarage and found his uncle and aunt sitting in the dining-room. "Hulloa, where have you sprung from?" said the Vicar. It was very clear that he was not pleased to see him. He looked a little uneasy. "I thought I'd come and see you about my leaving. I want to know what you mean by promising me one thing when I was here, and doing something different a week after." He was a little frightened at his own boldness, but he had made up his mind exactly what words to use, and, though his heart beat violently, he forced himself to say them. "Have you got leave to come here this afternoon?" "No. I asked Perkins and he refused. If you like to write and tell him I've been here you can get me into a really fine old row." Mrs. Carey sat knitting with trembling hands. She was unused to scenes and they agitated her extremely. "It would serve you right if I told him," said Mr. Carey. "If you like to be a perfect sneak you can. After writing to Perkins as you did you're quite capable of it." It was foolish of Philip to say that, because it gave the Vicar exactly the opportunity he wanted. "I'm not going to sit still while you say impertinent things to me," he said with dignity. He got up and walked quickly out of the room into his study. Philip heard him shut the door and lock it. "Oh, I wish to God I were twenty-one. It is awful to be tied down like this." Aunt Louisa began to cry quietly. "Oh, Philip, you oughtn't to have spoken to your uncle like that. Do please go and tell him you're sorry." "I'm not in the least sorry. He's taking a mean advantage. Of course it's just waste of money keeping me on at school, but what does he care? It's not his money. It was cruel to put me under the guardianship of people who know nothing about things." "Philip." Philip in his voluble anger stopped suddenly at the sound of her voice. It was heart-broken. He had not realised what bitter things he was saying. "Philip, how can you be so unkind? You know we are only trying to do our best for you, and we know that we have no experience; it isn't as if we'd had any children of our own: that's why we consulted Mr. Perkins." Her voice broke. "I've tried to be like a mother to you. I've loved you as if you were my own son." She was so small and frail, there was something so pathetic in her old-maidish air, that Philip was touched. A great lump came suddenly in his throat and his eyes filled
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