Fordham looked quickly up, intending to throw cold water on the whole scheme. But Philip’s boot coming in violent and significant contact with a rather troublesome corn, stifled in a vehement scowl the remark he was about to make, as his friend intended it should.
“That’ll be delightful,” assented Alma, gleefully. “Now who shall we ask to go? Mr Wentworth, the two Ottleys—they are sure to ask Mr Scott.”
“Should have thought that boat experience would have choked him off any further enterprise,” grunted Fordham.
“That’ll be four,” went on Alma, not heeding the interruption. “Then you two, uncle and myself—eight altogether. We ought to be roped. It’s a real climb, isn’t it?”
“Oh, very,” said Fordham. “So real that not half of us will reach the top.”
“Well, I mean to for one,” declared Alma. “And oh, I do hope it’ll be fine.”