“I think I’ve heard that observation before,” said Henderson, dodging away. “Ah, Walter, how do you do, my dear old fellow? I hope you’re sitting on the throne of health, and reclining under the canopy of a well-organised brain.”
“More than you are, Flip,” said Walter laughing. “You seem madder than ever.”
“That he is,” said Power; “since his return he’s made on an average fifteen thousand bad puns. You ought to be grateful, though, for he and I have got some coffee going for you in my study. Come along; the Familiar will see that your luggage is all right.”
“Yes; and I shall make bold to bring in a shrimp to tea,” said Henderson, seizing hold of Eden.
“All right. I meant to ask you, Eden,” said Power, shaking the little boy affectionately by the hand; “have you enjoyed the holidays?”
“Not very much,” said Eden.
“You’re not looking as bright as I should like,” said Power; “never mind; if you didn’t enjoy the holidays you must enjoy the half.”
“That I shall. I hope, Walter, you’ll be in the same dormitory still. What shall I do if you’re not?”
“O, how’s that to be, Flip?” asked Walter; “you said you’d try to get some of us put together in one dormitory. That would be awfully jolly. I don’t want to leave you, Eden, and would like you to be moved too; but I can’t bear Harpour and that lot.”
“I’ve partly managed it and partly failed,” said Henderson. “You and the shrimp still stay with the rest of the set in Number 10, but as there was a vacant bed I got myself put there too.”