"I'm sorry I spoke so hastily, Paul," he whispered. "Forgive me."
The next afternoon was a holiday for both Garside and St. Bede's. It was for this reason that the challenge had been fixed for that date. Cranstead Common was midway between the two schools, and the sand-pit was in an open part of the common, where the ground for some little distance round was destitute of grass or furze.
The Fifth Form had kept to themselves the fact that an encounter was to take place in the sand-pit, for fear it might reach the ear of some of the masters, and be stopped. They were not aware that Plunger knew all that had transpired at the meeting. Plunger was as loyal to his Form as the Fifth were to theirs, and the secret of what was to happen at the sand-pit was communicated in confidence to them on the distinct understanding that it wasn't to travel farther.
When, therefore, the afternoon came, and the boys of the Fifth set out in little parties of three or four to make for the sand-pit, they could not understand how it was that little parties of the Third were found to be travelling in the same direction. Still more curious were the various articles borne by these little bands of stragglers. One group bore a football; another shouldered a butterfly net, without regard to the fact that butterflies had not been seen for many weeks; a third group fishing-rods, and so on.
Freddy Plunger was amongst the anglers. He was talking loudly about his achievements at different times with rod and line, when Devey, Arbery, and Leveson came up with him.
"What are you fishing for, Plunger?" asked Devey, catching him gently by the ear. "Whales?"
"No—eels!" retorted Plunger snappily, having good cause to remember Devey the night before. "Slippery things, eels, aren't they?"
"Not half so slippery as you are, Mr. Plunger. But don't be cheeky."
"Never am, Mr. Devey. That's my fault—always too polite. Born like it, so can't help myself. Where are you going to, Mr. Devey?"
"That's my business, Mr. Plunger. Little boys shouldn't ask questions—they should be seen and not heard. If you have a good catch, ask us to supper, won't you? Ta-ta, Plunger!"