“A quarter to ten.”
Without more ado they took the unhappy Coote between them and rushed him frantically back to the school, where they shot him in at the Doctor’s door just as that gentleman was about to dismiss his new boys’ class.
“How is this, Coote?” demanded the Head Master, sternly, as the breathless boy entered. “Were you not told to be here at half-past nine?”
“Yes, sir; I—I made a mistake. I’m very sorry, sir.”
The genuine terror in his face procured his reprieve this time. Dr Winter may have been used to “mistakes” of this kind. At any rate, he contented himself with cautioning the new boy against unpunctuality generally, and, by way of punishment, gave him an examination all to himself, which resulted, much to his comfort, in his being placed in the upper third, of which Dick and Heathcote were already shining lights.
While he was thus engaged, Dick and Heathcote were holding a secret, and by no means cheerful, consultation over a recent number of the Templeton Observer.
“I made sure it was all blown over,” said the latter, dejectedly.
“What a cad the fellow must be!” said the former.
“I think newspapers are a regular nuisance!” said Georgie.
“All I know is, he robbed us of all we had, and if we’d informed he’d have been in Botany Bay or somewhere this minute!” said Dick, working himself up into a passion.