"I suppose you wouldn't mind if I altered my decision?"
"Indeed, sir, it would be ripping," replied Atherton, enthusiastically.
"Well, I will write to Mr Trematon on the matter to-morrow," declared Sir Silas. "If you won't accept a pecuniary reward perhaps I can pay off a portion of my debt of gratitude to you in another way. All the same," he added, with a touch of pomposity, "I wish it to be clearly understood that the objections I have expressed to Mr Trematon I still believe in: but since you refuse any pecuniary reward I think I am justified in making this offer. I suppose there is no reason why you should decline this slight concession?"
"Thank you very much, sir," replied Atherton warmly. "In the name of the troop I thank you."
"No need for that," said Sir Silas grimly. "The troop, whatever that is—I suppose it has something to do with Scouts—has to thank you, not me. I will write to Mr Trematon this evening on the matter."
As soon as Leader Atherton was dismissed he ran as hard as he could out of the schoolhouse, and crossed the playground and burst excitedly into the old gym.
"I say, you chaps," he exclaimed, "it's all right after all. Sir Silas Gwinnear has reconsidered his decision and we have permission to camp out on Seal Island."
The roof echoed and re-echoed to the hearty cheer the Scouts raised, while little Reggie Scott, the Tenderfoot of the "Otters," showed his enthusiasm by attempting to dance a hornpipe on the back of the vaulting horse. His efforts came to an abrupt conclusion, and he rose from the floor dolefully rubbing the back of his head, while his comrades were unable to restrain their mirth.
In the midst of the uproar the Scoutmaster entered.
"What's all this, boys?" he inquired. "More play than work it looks like; and only a few days more before we go to Southend, and our preparations are not half made."