He felt so much better in his mind that at the luncheon table he turned back Henshaw’s scowl with a cheerfully ignoring glance and devoted himself with unconcern to his friend Monroe until Truesdale, the sixth-former who sat on his left, said:
“Henshaw wants me to tell you he’ll meet you this afternoon back of the sawmill at three o’clock.”
“He’ll have to make it half-past three,” David replied. “I have lines until then.”
Truesdale glanced across the table at Henshaw, who nodded.
“All right; half-past three,” Truesdale said. “Don’t bring a crowd.”
“I shan’t bring anybody but Monroe here,” David answered.
“You fellows will probably collect the whole sixth form,” said Monroe, whose pugnacity was roused even more than David’s.
“Don’t get excited, little one,” replied Truesdale. “All we care about is to see fair play.”
After luncheon Monroe walked with David to the study building, where David for an hour was to perform his task of penmanship.