Everything went wrong that morning with Jim. He made the most stupid mistakes in class, and behaved so badly that Mr. Laythorne felt sorely tempted to send him to the head-master. He was kept in during the interval, and again at noon, and accordingly looked on himself as a martyr. When he at last got out, the playground was empty except for Dick, who would never have dreamed of going without his chum.
"Get your face straight, old man," cried he; "it's as long as a fiddle. I wish I had a looking-glass, so that you could see yourself. Think of the milkmen down your way! You'll turn all their milk sour!"
Jim stalked across the playground without deigning to reply.
"Whew!" whistled the Angel; "you ought to be marked dangerous, like a magazine. No wonder Laythorne was afraid to keep you inside any longer. But I say, Jim, that was a lovely tap you gave Braithwaite. He asked me if I thought his nose was broken."
"I'll break his head next time!" said Jim savagely.
The Angel clapped him on the back.
"There's nothing like making a good job of a thing while you're at it," he said. "Going up the lane? All right. I'll call for you after dinner. And take that frown off your face, or you'll frighten Susie into a fit."
Mrs. Hartland saw there was something the matter with the boy, but happily she did not worry him about it, and by the time Dick called he was almost himself again.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, mother," he said as he was going out, "you needn't wait tea for me. I'm going to have mine at the shop. It will save time, Mr. Broad says."
"Have you to work all the evening, Jim?" asked Dick as they went down the street.