“I don’t think you would,” said the boy.
If any one had told Aspinall, ten minutes ago, he would be talking to Dick in this strain, he would have scouted the idea as a bit of chaff. As it was, he could hardly believe he had said as much as he had, and waited, in an uncomfortable sort of way, for Dick’s next remark.
“Oh! that’s what you think, is it?”
“Please don’t be angry,” pleaded the boy, “you asked me.”
“What about Heathcote?” demanded Dick, abruptly, after a pause.
“What do you mean, Dick?”
“I mean, is he making a mess of it, too?”
“Oh, Dick; I never said you were making a mess of it.”
“Well, then, is Heathcote being led astray?”
“I don’t know. He seems different; and talks funnily about things.”