Heathcote began to discover he had done a foolish thing; and when he found his friend launching the “sharks” at his head in this familiar way he felt it was no use holding out any longer.
“It was awfully low of me not to call you this morning,” said he, “but you looked so fast asleep, you know.”
“So I was,” said Dick, unbending. “I’m glad you didn’t rout me up, for I was regularly fagged last night.”
“What time will you be going this afternoon?”
“Depends. I’ve got to see one of the Sixth as soon as he turns up, but that won’t take long.”
Heathcote retired routed. His friend was too many for him. He (Heathcote) had no one bigger than Swinstead and Birket to impress his friend with. Dick had “sharks,” and behind them “one of the Sixth.” What was the use of opposing himself to such odds?
“Wait for us, won’t you?” was all he could say; and next moment they were at their respective desks, and school had begun.
Dick’s quick ears caught the sound of cabs in the quadrangle and the noise of luggage in the hall while school was going on, and his mind became a little anxious as the prospect of his coming interview loomed nearer before him. He hoped Cresswell was a jolly fellow, and that there would be no one else in his study when he went to call upon him. He had carefully studied the geography of his fortress, so he knew exactly where to go without asking any one, which was a blessing.
As soon as class was over he made his way to the matron’s room.
“Do you know if Cresswell has come yet, please.”