“Richardson! do you hear?” once more shouted the invisible Braider.
Dick walked on in the dusk, wondering to himself whether Braider would get into a row for kicking up that uproar in the Quad.
At last, after one final shout, he heard the door slam. Then he quickened his pace, and made for Cresswell’s study.
On the staircase he met Aspinall.
“I heard some one calling you out in the Quad.,” said the small boy.
“Did you?” replied Dick. “I wonder who it can have been? Is Cresswell in his study?”
“No.”
“All serene. Come back with me. Have you done your swot?”
“Yes, I did my lessons an hour ago.”
“Oh!” said Dick, and strode on, followed somewhat dubiously by his young protégé.