“We are supposed to be in the infirmary, aren’t we?” said Singh. “I say, couldn’t we undress and go to bed?”
“No,” said Glyn promptly. “What difference would that make?”
“Why, he’d think we were too ill to be seen.”
“Nonsense,” cried Glyn. “Wouldn’t he come up and see us all the same?”
“Oh dear!” groaned Singh. “What a mess we are in! This comes of your fighting.”
“Well, who made me fight? Who began it?”
“Well, I suppose it was I,” said Singh; “but I couldn’t stand still and let him knock us both about. Oh dear, what a lot of bother it all is!”
“Here, I say, Wrench,” cried Glyn excitedly, “were you sent up to tell us that my father was here?”
“No, sir,” said the man, grinning; “but I thought you’d like to know. I must go now, in case my bell rings.”
The footman went off hurriedly, and the two boys, after a fresh visit to the looking-glass, tried to make the best of their appearance.