He said he would wait at the station for an answer, and he was a little sorry when it came, as it meant he would have to go back to the dismal house. His father's reply was:
"Dear Dick. To fulfill the conditions you must remain a week. Do the best you can and let it be a lesson to you."
"Be a lesson to me?" mused Dick. "Oh, I see! He means I must make that investment so I won't have to come here and live."
On his return Dick entered the house at the rear door, pausing momentarily to wipe his feet. But his aunt was watching for him.
"Richard," she said severely. "They're not half clean. I can see dirt on them."
"Oh," he began, but he kept silent, and, instead of entering, turned into the orchard. There, at least, he would not be corrected. His uncle found him there a little later, as Dick was sitting idly under a tree.
"Haven't you anything to occupy yourself with?" asked Mr. Larabee severely.
"No," answered Dick. "There's no one to get up a baseball game with around here, as far as I can see."
"Boys shouldn't always be playing," commented Mr. Larabee. "You should labor to improve your mind. Why don't you read that book I gave you last night?"
