“You’re an awful brick,” said poor Coote, gratefully. “If it hadn’t been for you and Georgie, I don’t know what I should have done.”
Dick started and coloured.
“Is he in it? Does he know about it?” he asked.
“Yes, Dick,” said Coote, feeling rather in a hobble. “I—thought, you know, I’d better tell him.”
“What did he say?”
“Oh, not much; that is, he said he’d help me if he could. But—I don’t see how he can.”
“He might be able to lend you enough to make up the price,” said Dick, after a pause.
“I know he would, he’s such a brick—that is,” added the wretched Coote, correcting himself, “you’re both such bricks.”
Dick made no answer, but walked off, musing to himself.
“Both bricks!” And yet poor Coote had to blush when he mentioned the name of one brick to the other! Dick was getting tired of this.