I verily believe if Smith had had a boot in his hand it would have found its way in the direction of his enemy’s smile. Happily he hadn’t; so he turned his back on the speaker, and proceeded, “Very well, then we’d better sign these at once. I’ve got a pen and ink here. Look sharp, you fellows.”
“Don’t you think,” said Hawkesbury, blandly, once more, “as it’s all been left to the captain, he had better sign the paper in the name of the school? You don’t mind, Smith, I’m sure?”
Smith snatched up the pen hastily, and signed his name at the foot of each document.
“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you mean.”
I could watch the working of his face as he hurriedly folded each paper up into the form of a note, and knew the storm that was going on in his own breast. Certainly Hawkesbury, however good his intentions, was a little aggravating.
“Perhaps you’ll throw that in over the Henniker’s door?” said Smith, handing one of the notes to Hawkesbury.
Again Hawkesbury smiled as he replied, “Really, I’m such a bad shot; I’d much rather you did it.”
“Give it me,” I cried, interposing before my friend could retort. “I’ll throw it in.”
Saying which I took the missive, and after one or two bad shots, succeeded in getting it through the ventilator and hearing it drop in the middle of the Henniker’s floor.
“A letter for you,” I cried by way of explanation. “You’ve an hour to give an answer.”