'You should have seen how he enjoyed them! It was tremendous,' Tom broke in. 'Tremendous! I've no doubt the afternoon was terrible, but the morning was worth it. Ask Henry himself. I wanted to give him a treat, and it seems I gave you all one.'
'And then the headmaster!' Mr. Knight complained. 'He was very upset. He told me he didn't know what they should do without Henry last night.'
'Oh yes. I know old Pingles. Pingles is a great wit. But seriously, uncle,' said Tom—he gazed at the carpet; 'seriously——' He paused. 'If I had thought of the dreadful calamity to the school, I would only have bought half a pound.'
'Pah!' Mr. Knight whiffed out.
'It's a mercy we're all still alive,' murmured Tom.
'And may I ask, sir——' Mr. Knight began afresh, in a new vein, sarcastic and bitter. 'Of course you're an independent member of society, and your own master; but may I venture to ask what you were doing in Hyde Park yesterday at eleven o'clock?'
'You may,' Tom replied. 'The truth is, Bollingtons Limited and me, just me, have had a row. I didn't like their style, nor their manners. So the day before yesterday I told them to go to the devil——'
'You told them to go to the——!'
'And I haven't seen anything of Bollingtons since, and I don't want to.'
'That is where you are going to yourself, sir,' thundered Mr. Knight. 'Mark my words. That is where you are going to yourself. Two guineas a week, at your age, and you tell them——! I suppose you think you can get a place like that any day.'