“Well, that’s curt,” said Eddy with a laugh. “And I always like, don’t you know. By the way, I’ve got a sort of a—favour to ask you. I don’t know what you’ll say.”
Archie did not make any reply but looked up, waiting without much excitement for the demand, whatever it might be.
“Well it’s this,” said Eddy embarrassed, which was almost a new sensation to him, and gave him a sense of youth and freshness which in its way was delightful. “I don’t know what you’ll say to me for asking such a thing. It’s not as if you had your governor out and a lot of big wigs. A couple of young fellows doesn’t matter.”
Archie kept his face towards his companion with the same look of indifferent expectation, but he said nothing to help him on.
“It is not even like an invitation to the house; and the ladies probably will not be coming out again.”
There was faintly indicated on Archie’s countenance a question as to this latter statement—a sort of interrogating curl in the curve of his eyebrows; but the young man was chary of his words, and spoke no more than was indispensable.
“It is getting late in the season you know,” said Eddy, “and cold for them.”
“They don’t mind the cold,” said Archie.
“Well it’s rather cutting up here, and Mrs. Rowland—isn’t so young as the girls. However, I’m afraid they didn’t care for my man when he appeared before. It was bad taste I allow, thrusting himself into the midst of our party. But I don’t pretend that he’s much in the way of breeding. He’s a good fellow—enough—and he never had any opportunity of this sort of thing when he was younger. It’s that man Johnson, don’t you know. He’s hanging about here. I am always knocking up against him. He would be awfully pleased if you’d ask him to come with us out shooting. And I don’t think he’ll do much harm.”
“Oh,” said Archie, “the college man.”