Horace gave an involuntary whistle of dismay, but added, quickly,—
“I hope the fellows will be grateful for it, old man; they ought to be. Never mind, I’m certain we shall pull through it some day. We must hope for the best, anyhow.”
And with a brotherly grip of the hand they turned over and went to sleep.
Reginald presented himself at the Rocket next morning in an unusual state of trepidation. He had half made up his mind to march straight to the manager’s room and tell him boldly what had happened, and take his discharge from him. But Horace dissuaded him.
“After all,” he said, “Durfy may think better of it.”
“Upon my word I hardly know whether I want him to,” said Reginald, “except for young Gedge’s sake and mother’s. Anyhow, I’ll wait and see, if you like.”
Mr Durfy was there when he arrived, bearing no traces of last night’s fracas, except a scowl and a sneer, which deepened as he caught sight of his adversary. Reginald passed close to his table, in order to give him an opportunity of coming to the point at once; but to his surprise the overseer took no apparent notice of him, and allowed him to go to his place and begin work as usual.
“I’d sooner see him tearing his hair than grinning like that,” said young Gedge, in a whisper. “You may be sure there’s something in the wind.”
Whatever it was, Mr Durfy kept his own counsel, and though Reginald looked up now and then and caught him scowling viciously in his direction, he made no attempt at hostilities, and rather appeared to ignore him altogether.
Even when he was giving out the “copy” he sent Reginald his by a boy, instead of, as was usually his practice, calling him up to the table to receive it. Reginald’s copy on this occasion consisted of a number of advertisements, a class of work not nearly as easy and far less interesting than the paragraphs of news which generally fell to his share. However, he attacked them boldly, and, unattractive as they were, contrived to get some occupation from them for his mind as well as his hand.