Howard was only a very casual acquaintance; he was no use at games; he had never been in the same form as Roland, and fellows in the School house usually kept pretty much to themselves. They had only met in groups outside the chapel, or at roll-call, or before a lecture. It was probably the first time they had ever been alone together.
“Right you are!” said Roland. “Mr. Ruffer, bring me a large strawberry ice and a cup of coffee.”
But the ice did not last long, and they were soon strolling up the High Street, with time heavy on their hands. Conversation flagged; they had very little in common.
“I know,” said Howard. “Let’s go down to the castle grounds; they’ll probably have a band, and we can watch the dancing.”
Halfway between the station and the school, opposite the Eversham Hotel, where parents stopped for “commem” and confirmation, was a public garden with a band stand and well-kept lawns, and here on warm summer evenings dances would promote and encourage the rustic courtships of the youthful townsfolk. During the term these grounds were strictly out of bounds to the school; but on the first night rules did not exist, and besides, no one was likely to recognize them in the bowler hats and colored ties that would have to be put away that night in favor of black poplin and broad white straw.
It was a warm night, and they leaned against the railing watching the girls in their light print dresses waltz in the clumsy arms of their selected.
“Looks awfully jolly,” said Howard. “They don’t have a bad time, those fellows. There are one or two rippingly pretty girls.”
“And look at the fellows they’re dancing with. I can’t think how they can stand it. Now look there, at that couple by the stand. She’s a really pretty girl, while her man is pimply, with a scraggy mustache and sweating forehead, and yet look how she’s leaning over his shoulder; think of her being kissed by that.”
“I suppose there’s something about him.”