“I’ll defy anybody to say that there’s not two now, though,” said Grace. “And it was the Little Clumpton match, you know, Father; and it was an awful hot day, an’ awful fagging, and I knew you wouldn’t mind. Besides, I couldn’t have given anything common to two men going out with Stoddy, could I?”
“Well,” said her magnanimous parent, “on due consideration, I’m inclined to think you couldn’t.”
“That’s all right then,” said Grace cheerfully.
To describe in detail the festivities attendant on Charlie’s honours is by no means necessary, and perhaps not altogether politic. All I need say is, that it was such a shameful hour when the Optimist and I remembered it was time to go home that everybody simply scouted the idea.
“Oh no, you don’t,” said our hostess. “You’re going to stay the night. Must have you in condition for to-morrow’s match, you know, Dimmy. Don’t want you to say when I’ve given you a most frightful licking that you weren’t fit.”
“What match?” cried several of the curious.
“Dimmy knows,” said Grace.
“Oh, Dimmy knows, does he,” said Archie. “By Jove! you men, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Jimmy’s lost his pony.”
“What pony?” said Grace.
“Dimmy knows,” said Archie.