“Would it do to start an opposition club?” suggested Swinstead.
“Or make it penal for any fellow to belong to it,” said Cartwright.
“Or send a deputation,” said Pledge, laughing, “and ask them please not to put the Sixth in such an awkward fix!”
“You see,” said the captain, ignoring, as he usually did, Pledge’s sarcasms, “whatever we do, some are sure to be irreconcilable. I would like to give any who wish a chance of coming out, and then we shall know what to do with the rest. Does anyone know when they meet?”
“I believe there’s a meeting this evening,” said Cartwright; “at least, my fag Coote told me a couple of days ago that he had a particular engagement this evening, and was sorry he couldn’t say what it was, for he’d promised never to speak of the Club to anyone, least of all to a monitor.”
There was a general smile at the expense of the artless Coote, and then Mansfield said:—
“Well, one of us had better go there and give them a caution. Will you go, Freckleton?”
“I?” exclaimed the Hermit, aghast.
“Yes, please, old man,” said the Captain; “you’d do it better than anyone.”
“Wouldn’t you like me to go?” asked Pledge.