"No, Dunstable, no." Mr. Day peered at him gravely through his spectacles. "I set you no imposition; but Mr. Langridge did."
Dunstable imitated that eminent tactician, Br'er Rabbit. He "lay low and said nuffin."
"Surely," continued Mr. Day, in tones of mild reproach, "you did not think that you could take Mr. Langridge in?"
Dunstable rather thought he had taken Mr. Langridge in; but he made no reply.
"Well," said Mr. Day. "I must set you some punishment. I shall give the butler instructions to hand you a note from me at three o'clock to-morrow." (The next day was a half-holiday.) "In that note you will find indicated what I wish you to write out."
Why this comic-opera secret-society business, Dunstable wondered. Then it dawned upon him. Mr. Day wished to break up his half-holiday thoroughly.
That afternoon Dunstable retired in disgust to his study to brood over his wrongs; to him entered Charles, his friend, one C. J. Linton, to wit, of Seymour's, a very hearty sportsman.
"Good," said Linton. "Didn't think I should find you in. Thought you might have gone off somewhere as it's such a ripping day. Tell you what we'll do. Scull a mile or two up the river and have tea somewhere."
"I should like to awfully," said Dunstable, "but I'm afraid I can't."
And he explained Mr. Day's ingenious scheme for preventing him from straying that afternoon.