“Not much; though I don’t know why.”
Smith put out his hand and pulled my face close to his as he whispered, “I hate him!”
“Has he been bullying you?” I inquired.
“No,” said Smith. “But he’s—ugh—I don’t know any more than you do why I hate him. I say, shall you be out in the playground to-morrow?”
“Yes, unless I get four bad marks before. I’ve two against me already.”
“Oh, don’t get any more. I want to go for a walk.”
“A walk!” I exclaimed. “You’ll never be allowed!”
“But we might slip out just for a few minutes; it’s awful never to get out.”
It was awful; but the risk. However, I had promised to back him up, and so I said where he went I would go.
“If it was only to climb one tree, or see just one bird on the bushes,” he said, almost pathetically. “But I say, ain’t you getting cold?”