“Yes, I like feeding the ducks,” said Selby. “One acquires a good deal of natural history knowledge thereby, and also enjoys the pleasure of making new and pleasant friends.”
This was directed at Frank, who felt uncomfortable, and made another bow, it being the proper thing to do, as his new acquaintance—he did not mentally call him friend—dropped a piece of biscuit, to be seized by a very fat duck, which had found racing a failure, and succeeded best by coming out of the water, to snap up the fragments which dropped at the distributors’ feet.
As the piece of biscuit fell, the stranger formally and in a very French fashion raised his cocked hat again.
“And so you find the court life dull, Mr Gowan,” he said.
“Yes,” said the boy, colouring. “You see, I have not long left Winchester and my school friends. Miss the ga— sports; but Andrew Forbes has been very friendly to me,” he added heartily.
“Of course you feel dull coming among strangers; but never fear, Mr Gowan, you will have many and valuable friends I hope, your humble servant among the number. It must be dull, though, at this court. Now at Saint—”
“That’s my last piece of bread, Selby,” said Andrew hastily. “Give me a bit of biscuit.”
“Certainly, if I have one left,” was the smiling reply, with another almost imperceptible nod. “Yes, here is the last. Of course you must find it dull, and we have not seen you lately at the club, my dear fellow. By the way, why not bring Mr Gowan with you next time?”
“Oh, he would hardly care to come. He does not care for politics, eh, Frank?”
“I don’t understand them,” said the boy quietly.