“Get up,” said he, advancing to his prostrate antagonist.
Ratman was surprised at himself when, after a moment’s doubt, he obeyed.
“What’s your name?” demanded Mr Armstrong, surveying him from head to foot.
Again, by some curious mental process, Mr Ratman obeyed.
“What are you doing down here?”
“I am Captain Oliphant’s guest,” growled Ratman.
The tutor looked him up and down in a manner which was clearly not calculated to imply admiration of Captain Oliphant’s choice of friends.
“Allow me to tell you, sir, that in this part of the world we call men like you blackguards.”
And the tutor, whose eye-glass had become uncomfortably deranged during this brief interview, screwed it in with a wrench, and turned on his heel.
“Where’s jolly old Ratman?” inquired Tom, when the family presently assembled for breakfast.