Kit heaved a sigh in mock heroics. “Hail, blithe spirits,” he lamented, murdering his quotation, “hail and farewell.”
The boys pressed his hands heartily. “Is it a caning, Sandy?” they asked.
“Well, I rather think so,” answered Maclaren, with a smile. “You weren’t very keen not to distinguish between Barney Clayton and Mr. Roylston.”
“They were both butting in,” protested Kit.
“Well, cut along now. And you two report to Bill, he’s looking for you.”
Kit found the Doctor in his comfortable study at the Rectory, standing before a glowing log fire, with his swallow-tails spread to the blaze.
“Ah, Christopher,” the Head Master exclaimed, shaking hands with the culprit, “I’m glad to see you.”
“Thank you, sir. Maclaren said you wanted to see me particularly?”
“I do, most particularly. Take off your coat.”