And so the practice went on Dick, feeling that he was making enemies all round till, about an hour after, when he was in the long-room, and half a dozen of the bandsmen came in together, looked at him, then at one another, and one of them said—
“I’m glad you’ve joined.”
“We’ve been thinking it over, and we’re going to see if we can’t work up some better music now. Never you mind about Wilkins; his bark’s worse than his bite.”
“And he likes to show off,” said another. “Wants people to think what a clever one he is. We’ll have some quiet practices together, if you like.”
“I shall be very glad,” said Dick eagerly.
“That’s right, and you can give us a few hints. Wilkins turned nasty through that snubbing he got over yonder, at the mess-room, but he’ll soon come round. I’m sorry, though, about old Jones.”
“So am I,” cried Dick; “I quite felt for him this afternoon.”
“Yes, he never ought to have been put to music. I hope he won’t turn nasty,” said the first speaker, “for he’s got a temper of his own. But, there, you needn’t mind him.”
“No,” thought Dick, “I need not mind him; but I don’t like making enemies, all the same.”