“Oh! where did you learn that?”
“At Harrow.”
Then Steggles started like a guilty thing and put his hand over his mouth--too late. A rumor we had heard was proved true.
“It would have been sure to get out, and I don’t care who knows it, for that matter,” said Steggles, defiantly. “I had to leave there because I didn’t know enough, and couldn’t get up higher in the school. I’m rather backward through not being properly taught. The teaching at Harrow’s simply cruel. Not but what I’ve taught myself a thing or two, mind you. I’m fifteen.”
He looked at us out of his red-rimmed eyes, and put me in mind of a ferret I’ve got at home. He might have been any age up to twenty, I thought.
“Can you play anything?” asked Mathers.
“The piano.”
Mathers shivered and Nubby grew excited.
“So can I. We’ll do duets,” he said.
“If you like,” said Steggles.