‘Well now, Mr. Cochrane,’ began Maisie, ‘we’ve heard a lot about you from Freddy; he says you’d make a cat laugh.’
‘I hope you don’t consider yourself a cat, Miss Coffington,’ I put in quickly.
‘O don’t call me Miss Coffington,’ said Maisie crossly, ‘It’s such a mouthful.’
At this moment Accrington and Cobson, who were rowing in our boat, ran past us, and Maisie, after a hasty glance at their attire, remarked simply, ‘How terribly draughty.’
‘What do you mean, Miss—er—Maisie?’ I asked.
‘Why look at their poor dear knees. Oh, but perhaps Oxford men haven’t got knees officially any more than we have legs.’
‘You’ve got hold of a very good joke,’ I said to Reggie, as peals of laughter came from behind.
‘Yes, Miss Muriel says,’ began Reggie; when Muriel held up a little gloved hand in front of him and said, ‘Oh you horrid man, I shall never tell you anything again if you tell them that.’
‘All right, then I won’t,’ said Reggie; and he didn’t till we were back at home that night.
We went on to the Thomas’ barge, which as everybody knows is next door to the Cecil’s, and found it crowded with the usual assortment of Eights’ week relations, some of them surpassingly beautiful, but some very much the reverse.