Lurks in your eyes to fascinate.
As it was a holiday the pupils were left to their own devices, and on going outside, Blake found Dick Pemberton amusing himself with Muffins and a fishing rod. Ferdinand having been worsted by the volatile Dick, had long since departed to work at a tragedy he was composing, and Mr. Pemberton was evidently getting ready for a fishing excursion in company with Muffins.
"Now what do you think you are doing?" asked Reggy pausing at the door.
"None so blind as those who won't see," retorted Dick coolly. "I'm goin' fishin'."
"Fishing?" repeated Reggy with emphasis.
"With the accent on the 'G'," replied Richard gaily. "Don't be a pedant, old chap--fishin' means the same thing as fishing, and not so much trouble to say. I suppose I ought to call Muffins 'Muffings.'"
"Oh, bosh!" retorted Reggy politely, walking down to the gate.
"Quite right--it is bosh, oh King. Where are you off to?"
"Grange?"
Dick arched his eyebrows, shook his head, and whistled, at which Reginald flushed a little.