“What’s the good now? Let’s go back to bed, and tell him in the morning. No: I don’t like to. Why, he’d be ready to half kill poor old Shanter.”
Norman was silent, and they tramped back to the house when, just as Norman was reaching up to get hold of the window-sill, a hand was stretched out.
“Hallo! you two. Where have you been?”
“Never mind,” said Norman. “Wait till we get in again.”
They both climbed in silently, and Tim began again.
“I say, it was shabby to go without me;” and when they explained why they had hurried off, he was no better satisfied. “I wouldn’t have served you so,” he grumbled. “But I say, won’t uncle be in a way?”
“Yes, if Norman tells him,” said Rifle. “Don’t you think we had better hold our tongues?”
A long discussion followed, with the result that Rifle found himself in the minority, and went to sleep feeling rather unhappy about the black.