“And be sure give my dear love to mamma.”
“So I will.”
“And now I’ll go to sleep, or I shan’t be down to supper. You will come and call me if I am not, won’t you?”
“All right,” said Tod, tucking the counterpane about him. “Are you comfortable, Archie?”
“Quite. Thank you.”
Tod came on to the field again, and joined the game. It was a little less rough, and there were no more mishaps. We got home later than usual, and supper stood on the table.
The suppers at Worcester House were always the same—bread and cheese. And not too much of it. Half a round off the loaf, with a piece of cheese, for each fellow; and a drop of beer or water. Our other meals were good and abundant; but the Doctor waged war with heavy suppers. If old Hall had had her way, we should have had none at all. Little Hearn did not appear; and Tod went up to look after him. I followed.
Opening the door without noise, we stood listening and looking. Not that there was much good in looking, for the room was in darkness.
“Archie,” whispered Tod.
No answer. No sound.