“Passed your examination first-class honours,” read Lydia out loud.
“I say!”
“And you’d been ill the whole time, hadn’t you? My golly!”
“Why, we thought you hadn’t a chance!”
“Weren’t you the youngest one there, or some rot of that kind?”
“First-class honours! That’s as high as you can go, isn’t it?”
They were all lavish of exclamations and hearty slangy congratulations.
Olive herself, and everybody else, had forgotten all about Olive’s injury, and Lydia was the centre of attention.
“I say, let’s have a celebration!” shouted Bob. “Come in after supper and have a cocoa-rag.”
The invitation was accepted with loud enthusiasm.