As for Bob he ground his teeth and clenched his hands, but this only made him look the more comic, and I threw myself in a chair and fairly roared, till he came at me like an angry bull; but as I made no resistance, only laughed, he lowered his fists.
“I can’t help it, Bob; I was obliged to laugh,” I cried. “There, you may laugh at me now; but you do look so droll. Have you been out?”
“Been out? In these? Of course I haven’t. How can I? No: I’m a prisoner, and all the rest of my holiday time is going to be spoiled.”
“Oh, I say, don’t talk like that, old boy,” I cried. “Why didn’t you keep the suit I lent you?”
“I don’t want to be dependent on you for old clothes,” he said haughtily.
“Well, I’d rather wear them than those you have on, Bob. Oh, I say, you do look rum!”
“If you say that again I shall hit you,” cried Bob fiercely.
“Oh, very well, I won’t say it,” I said; “but I say, wouldn’t you wear a suit of old Big’s?”
I said it quite seriously, but he regularly glared and seemed as if he were going to fly at me, but he neither moved nor spoke.
“Never mind about your clothes,” I said. “Big’s sure to be over before long. Let’s get out on the cliff, or down by the shore, or go hunting up in the moor, or something.”