“Where’s Corkey minimus? Bray wants him.”
“What for?” I said. I may mention that I am called McInnes.
“As a matter of fact, he’s heard something, and he says, though he’s sorry, he’s got to lick Corkey.”
Fowle smacked his beastly mouth as if he’d got pine-apple drops in it.
“What’s Corkey done?” I said.
“It’s about Milly Dunston. Young Corkey talks jolly big with her, and doesn’t even speak civil of his friends. By quite an accident I was passing through the shrubbery from Browne’s house to the chapel yesterday, and I went by the summer-house, which is out of bounds, and couldn’t help overhearing Milly and Corkey minimus, who were there. And Corkey distinctly said that Bray was as fiery as his hair, and that he had no more control of himself than a burning mountain; and Milly laughed.”
“And you sneaked off and told Bray?”
“As his chum I had to.”
“Ah, then I shall tell Corkey what you heard, being his chum.”
“I shouldn’t,” said Fowle. “It’s only making mischief. Besides, Bray won’t take an apology now. He says he’s stood all that flesh and blood can stand. Those were his very words. In fact, I’m looking for Corkey minimus at this moment to tell him that Bray wants him up in the ‘gym.’”