“Quite as strong as is good for you, father.”
“Right, my lass,” said Bob, helping himself to some more cream, “and not so strong as is good for you.”
I rose to go soon after, and the keeper joined with his daughter in absolutely refusing to let me pay for my meal.
“Glad to have seen you, sir; and now mind that as soon as ever your young friend Mas’ Mercer—Mas’ Bri’sh Museum, as I call him—is ready, and you can get a day, I’ll take you to our stock pond, where the carps and tenches are so thick, they’re asking to be caught. You shall have a day.”
“Good-bye, Polly,” I said, shaking hands. “You’ve quite cured my head.”
“I am so glad, sir!” she cried; and I went back to the school, Bob seeing me part of the way, and saying to me confidentially as we walked,—
“You see me leathering that poaching vagabond Magglin, sir. It’s like this. The reason for it was— No, sir. Good-night. You’re too young to talk about that sort o’ thing. Don’t forget about the fish.”
He hurried away without another word, while I went on, and found Tom Mercer looking for me, and eager to hear where I had been.
“What a shame!” he cried. “The high tea was very jolly, but I missed you. I wish I’d gone too. I say, we were licked, but it was a splendid match after all. Hallo! here’s Hodson. The chaps all went off on their ’bus cheering and— Hooray, Hodson! what a day!”
“Yes; but I say,” said the lad, “Burr major’s lost his watch.”