"Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, Sark, and Herm," I replied glibly. So much had I saved from the wreck of things ordained.
"Correct. Are you through your dinners then? You may pass out. Ah, your nose, John; it looks quite red. What caused that?"
I said that I believed I had an inward burning fever. I had embellished Mary Ellen's suggestion.
"I hope you are not going to be ill," she sighed.
It was not until Angel and I were back in the schoolroom, that we discovered the absence of The Seraph. We turned surprised looks on each other. Our junior seldom left our heels.
"I remember now," reflected Angel, "that, as he passed her, she stopped him. I didn't think anything of it. What can she have found out? D'you s'pose she's pumping the kid?"
We were left to our conjectures for fully a quarter of an hour. Then we heard him plodding leisurely up the stairs. We greeted him impatiently.
"What's up? Did you blab? Whatever did she say?" We hurled the questions at him.
The Seraph maintained an air of calm superiority. He even hopped from one floral wreath on the carpet to another, with his hands behind his back, as was his custom when he wished to reflect undisturbed. He ignored our importunities.
Angel, in exasperation, took him by the collar.