But Soft Sam did nothing of the kind.
“Come along, boys, it’s all right. I’ll meet one of my lads before we have gone far.”
Even as he spoke a flash sulky, with a fast-trotting pony, driven by a superfine young swell, was dashing past. Old Sam put up his hand, and the vehicle stopped. He stepped forward, and this is what the young men heard—
“Give us a quid, Johnny.”
“A fiver if you like, Sam.”
“No, a quid will do.”
A pocket-book was brought out, the paper handed over, and with a mutual nod the sulky disappeared round the corner.
“A friend of yours?” inquired Huey.
“One of my pupils.”
“Then you are a kind of professor?”