Joel looked up, gave a little nod, then broke away from the boys, and dashed to Jenkins' door.
“See here,”—he flung the words out,—“you've got to finish sometime when Mrs. Fox isn't round.”
Jenkins, who was under the impression that he had had quite enough, was made to say, “All right;” something in the boys' faces making it seem imperative that he should do so.
Quite pleased, Joel withdrew as suddenly as he had come.
Meanwhile, up the stairs, two at a time, came Davie, singing at the memory of the special commendation given by his instructor in the recitation just over; and secretly David's heart bounded with a wild hope of taking home a prize in classics for Mamsie!
“Everything's just beautiful this term!” he hummed to himself. And then, in a breathing space he was in his room, and there, well drawn behind the door, was a boy with big eyes. “Hush” he warned.
“What's the matter?” asked David in astonishment, “and where's Joel?”
“Oh, don't speak his name; he's in disgrace. Oh, it's perfectly awful!” The boy huddled up in a heap, and tried to shut the door.
“Who?” cried David, not believing his ears.
“Joel—oh dear! it's perfectly awful!”