“No, you wouldn’t. You were the funny man.”
“What did I do!” demanded David.
“First you grinned an awful grin miles too soon,” said Bags. “Then you looked as grave as a judge with indigestion. Then, miles too late, you gave another awful grin and dropped your hat. Sorry you didn’t get your tea, but it was too funny for anything.”
David was radically incapable of ill-humour for more than a few seconds at a time, and grinned in a less awful manner.
“I never felt such a silly fool,” he said. “And I’m not sure I like that man. What do you suppose they were talking about so interestedly?”
“Can’t say; run back and ask them,” said Bags. “I thought he looked rather a decent chap. Awfully good-looking too; a bit like Maddox.”
David gave a snort of disdain.
“Like your grandmother,” he observed in a withering manner.
“Which one? I’ve got two.”
David took hold of Bags by the shoulders, and ran him down the bit of steep hill to the gate.