Reddy ye'll not be going back to school after the holidays.
There's over-many mouths to keep, and over-many backs to clothe, lad.
Ye'll have to buckle to, like the rest of us.'

'Yes, father,' said Paul. The prospect looked welcome, as almost any
change does to a boy.

'What would ye like to be?' his father asked

'I dunno,' said Paul, rubbing his nose hard with the back of one
freckled hand.

'Well, I'll thenk it over. Ye can get away to your plays now, but the
serious purpose o' life's beginnin' for ye.'

Paul needed no further leave. He snatched his cap and was away up the
High Street before anybody could find time to tell him that his neck
was unwashed, his boots unblacked or unlaced, or his collar disarranged.
These reminders were an unfailing grievance to him when they came, and
they seemed to hail upon him all day long. With the thought that he was
entering the world and beginning his career in earnest, he thrust his
hands into his corduroy pockets, swaggering in his walk, and so absorbed
that he forgot to touch the street lamp-posts for two or three hundred
yards. He stood overcome by this discovery, retraced his steps almost to
the shop-door, in spite of his fear of being recalled, and then raced
on his original way, laying a hand on each lamp-post as he passed it
In this fashion he arrived at the gate of an unpretentious little house
which had many reasons for looking glorious and palatial in his eyes.
For one thing, it was a private house. No business of any sort was done
there, and its inhabitants lived on their own money. Then it stood back
from the road, behind iron railings, and had a gravel pathway leading
to the front door, and a little bit of orderly garden with one drooping
laburnum in it, which in its season hung clear gold blossoms over the
roadway. There was a small coach-house beside the main building. It held
no vehicle of any sort, but it was a coach-house all the same. Inside
the house everything was neat and clean, and to Paul's mind luxurious.
There were carpets in all the living-rooms and bedrooms. There was a
piano, there were marble mantelpieces with gold-framed mirrors over
them, one to each front-room, and the chambers which held these
splendours were familiarly used, and not merely kept for show. Paul had
the run of this house, for the orphan children of his mother's second
cousin lived there, and the relationship was recognised.

He rang the bell, and a fresh-coloured, prettyish