"The way you handled the beast," continued Scaife, "was masterly. I heard every word, though my head was bursting. I shall tell Lovell that you saved us. Oh, Lord—didn't I give the show away?"
He never tried to read the perplexity upon the other's face, but went away laughing. He came back with the Caterpillar half an hour later, and the three boys sat down as usual to prepare some Livy. John was sensible that his companions treated him not only as an equal—a new and agreeable experience—but as a friend. In the course of the first ten minutes Scaife said to the Caterpillar—
"He told Dick to his face that he would lie to save a pal."
And the Caterpillar replied seriously, "Good kid, very good kid. Lovell says he's going to give a tea in his honour."
"No, he isn't. It's my turn."
Accordingly, upon the next half-holiday, Scaife gave a tea at the Creameries. Of all the strange things that had happened during the past fortnight, this to our simple John seemed the strangest. He was not conscious of having done or said anything to justify the esteem and consideration in which Scaife, the Caterpillar, and Lovell seemed to hold him.
"You've forgotten Desmond," he said to Scaife, when the latter mentioned the names of his guests.
"Cæsar isn't coming. By the way, Verney, you've not been talking to Cæsar about the row in our house?"
"No," said John. "Lawrence came round and said that I must keep my mouth shut."
"And naturally you did what you were told to do?"