“Can’t you eat your dinner?” he whispered.
There was no other course open save making a paltry excuse, so I said gruffly,—
“Never mind, old chap,” he said, to my surprise. “Lots of us laugh at you, but—. I say, don’t tell ’em I said so.”
“I don’t sneak and tell tales,” I said morosely.
“No, of course you wouldn’t. I was going to say lots of us laugh at you, but lots of us wish you and Senna Tea had given those two bullies an awful licking.”
“Thank-ye,” I said, for these words were quite cheering, and I glanced at Mercer, who was fiddling his dinner about, and cutting the pink-looking cold boiled beef up in very small squares.
“Can’t you get on?” I whispered.
“No. ’Tain’t likely; but just you wait.”
“What for?”
“Never mind!”