"What have you been doing to deserve a licking, you bad boy?" said his mother, smiling.
"Oh, lots. Tell you all about it afterwards." Dick said cheerfully. "Nothing very awful, though, Mother-est, how long are you going to be down?"
"Two days. And you're coming away with me until to-night, because we've got lots to talk about. Run and change your clothes—yes, and you might wash your face, too, my son."
"Right-oh! Back in two jiffs."
He went upstairs three steps at a time, unbuttoning as he went. In the room which he shared with three other boys a very fat youth was laboriously endeavouring to remove sundry stains from an Eton collar.
"My last collar," grumbled he. "I guess the laundry eats 'em. And I've got to go to the dentist, and matron'll eat me if she sees me in this. Wish you had a decent neck, Skinny, and I'd borrow one from you."
"Seventeens, isn't it, that you take?" queried Dick, grinning. "Never mind, Bottles, you're the pride of the school."
"Oh, am I?" rejoined his plump friend sourly. "I don't know about the pride of the school, but I'm a fortune to the man who makes my clothes—I bust out of 'em once a fortnight. Why on earth anyone wanted to be fat beats me."
"Did anyone?" Dick grinned—and dodged a hair-brush, hurled by Bottles with an agility that was surprising, considering his bulk. "Steady, you playful old elephant—I'm busy."
"You seem a bit rushed," remarked Bottles, observing his friend's movements with some amazement, as Dick flung off his school suit hurriedly, dived at the wash-stand, emerged from the basin, dripping, and after a brief towelling plunged at his locker for his Sunday clothes. "Going to have lunch at Government House, by any chance?"