‘Now, Wilfred, if you don’t hold your tongue, and not behave like a brute, I shall send you straight home.’
‘It’s quite true,’ growled Wilfred. ‘Ask her.’
‘What does that signify? I’m ashamed of you! I’ve a great mind to thrash you this instant. If you speak another word of that sort, I shall. Now then, there are the governesses trying to stop to see what’s the row. I shall give you up to Miss Vincent, if you choose to behave so like a spiteful girl.’
A sixth-form youth was far too great a man to be withstood by one who was not yet a public schoolboy at all; and Wilfred actually obeyed, while Jasper added to Fergus—
‘How could you be such a little ass as to go and tell him all that rot?’
‘It was true,’ grumbled Fergus.
‘The more reason not to go cackling about it like an old hen, or a girl! Your own sister! I’m ashamed of you both. Mind, I shall thrash you if you mention it again.’
Poor Fergus felt the accusation of cackling unjust, since he had only told Wilfred in confidence, and that had been betrayed, but he had got his lesson on family honour, and he subsided into his wonted look-out for curious stones, while Gillian was overtaken by Jasper—whether willingly or not, she hardly knew—but his first word was, ‘Little beast!’
‘You didn’t hurt him, I hope,’ said Gill, accepting the invitation to take his arm.
‘Oh no! I only threatened to make him walk with the governesses and the donkeys.’