At last Rouse smiled.
“Well, well, I suppose he may as well abide here as abide there. The great thing was to ensure that Henry was not being wronged in any way. Everything is now to the good, thanks to myself. Hullo, Carr, how are you? Hold out your fist, and that tall, well-set-up young fellow with the opera-glasses stuck on his face will slap a piece of cake into it. That is Henry Hope. Shake him heartily by the hand. He is one of the phenomena of Harley. People come miles to see what he carries behind those spectacles of his. You will grow to love Henry.... Who are you going to fag for?”
The little boy looked up.
“I don’t know yet,” said he. “There was some mix-up over the studies and things.”
“I can tell you,” put in Terence. “I saw the list half-an-hour ago. You’re going to fag for Coles.”
At first the effect that this news had upon Bobbie Carr passed unnoticed. The others were too busy dissecting cake to wonder why he made no answer at all. But at last Terence looked up and saw that he was sitting stiffly on his chair and staring at him.
“Is that right?” said he at last, and his voice sounded very small.
“That’s right,” said Terence. “Yes. Do you know Coles?”
For a moment he did not answer. Wild thoughts were scurrying across his mind. He was suddenly very afraid. He did not want them to know that he knew Coles at all, and yet——
“Rather bad luck,” said Rouse, talking with his mouth full. “Coles isn’t a man I’d care to fag for.”