David laughed. And his father ordered him from the table. Nell immediately slipped from her seat and joined him at the door.
“Ach Lenchen!” sobbed Mrs Redbury. “And you haf not touched the pie on your blate!”
“Gom back!” roared Mr Redbury. For there was always a possibility that she might find favour in the eyes of Samson Phillips. He had noticed with pleasure that a secret understanding seemed to exist between them; frequently they whispered together.... “My son-in-law a Captain in ze Zappers!”... Another link with safety. One might almost defy the policeman then.
II
The parlour-maid accosted David at the foot of the stairs. “Young Mr Marcus is in the schoolroom, sir. He said he would wait for you there.”
“Oh—thanks, Rhoda.”
“Hullo, Marcus. Not end of the term yet, is it? Scarlet fever again?”
“No. I’ve chucked Winborough.” Richard was lounging on the shabby fender-seat, drumming with one heel against the side of the fireplace. He was not looking well; dark marks under his eyes and a rather drawn expression round the mouth caused David, who was observant, to scrutinize him with some attention. He was rather surprised at this visit. On the whole Richard was not wont to seek out his society with overmuch enthusiasm. Richard’s friends were mostly sturdy athletes of the Greville Dunne order, who summed up David as “sloppy” because he played the cello, and hated games.
“Chucked Winborough? That’s pretty casual. What does your guv’nor say?”
“Said I could do as I liked about it.”