'I wish you two wouldn't make such an awful froust in the study every afternoon,' he observed, pleasantly. 'Have you been having a little tea-party? How nice!'
'We've been brewing, if that's what you mean,' said Vaughan, shortly.
'Oh,' said Plunkett, 'I hope you enjoyed yourselves. It's nearly lock-up, MacArthur.'
'That's Plunkett's delicate way of telling you you're not wanted, Babe.'
'Well, I suppose I ought to be going,' said the Babe. 'So long.'
And he went, feeling grateful to Providence for not having made his father, like the fathers of Vaughan and Dallas, a casual acquaintance of Mr Ward.
The Mutual Friend really was a trial to Vaughan and Dallas. Only those whose fate it is or has been to share a study with an uncongenial companion can appreciate their feelings to the full. Three in a study is always something of a tight fit, and when the three are in a state of perpetual warfare, or, at the best, of armed truce, things become very bad indeed.
'Do you find it necessary to have tea-parties every evening?' enquired Plunkett, after he had collected his books for the night's work. 'The smell of burnt meat—'
'Fried sausages,' said Vaughan. 'Perfectly healthy smell. Do you good.'
'It's quite disgusting. Really, the air in here is hardly fit to breathe.'