“Thank you,” said the Hermit gravely. “You’re Jim, aren’t you? And I conclude that this gentleman is Harry, and this Wally? Ah, I thought so. Yes, I haven’t seen so many people for ages. And black Billy! How are you Billy?”
Billy retreated in great embarrassment.
“Plenty!” he murmured.
Everybody laughed again.
“Well,” Jim said, “we’re hungry, Norah. I hope you and—er—this gentleman are.” Jim was concealing his bewilderment like a hero. “Won’t you sit down and sample Billy’s blackfish? He caught ’em all—we couldn’t raise a bite between us—barring Wally’s boot!”
“Did you catch a boot?” queried the Hermit of the blushing Wally. “Mine, I think—I can’t congratulate you on your luck! If you like, after lunch, I’ll show you a place where you could catch fish, if you only held the end of your finger in the water!”
“Good enough!” said Jim. “Thanks, awfully—we’ll be jolly glad. Come on, Billy—trot out your frying-pan!”
Lunch began rather silently.
In their secret hearts the boys were rather annoyed with Norah.
“Why on earth,” Jim reflected, “couldn’t she have left the old chap alone? The party was all right without him—we didn’t want any one else—least of all an odd oddity like this.” And though the other boys were loyal to Norah, she certainly suffered a fall in their estimation, and was classed for the moment with the usual run of “girls who do rummy things.”