Tom was fast nearing the breakers now. He had nothing for it but to accept the challenge, and the table was consequently engaged for the next evening.
“I must be off now, you fellows!” he said.
“Nonsense! Why, you haven’t yet seen the fun below. You must stay for that.”
“I wish I could,” faltered Tom; “but I really must do some reading to-night.”
“So you can; the thing only lasts an hour, and you’re not obliged to go to bed at eleven, are you?”
Still Tom hesitated.
“You don’t mean to say you are squeamish about it?” said Gus, in astonishment. “I could fancy that young friend of your mother’s turning up his eyes at it, but a fellow like you wouldn’t be so particular, I reckon; eh, Jack?”
And Mr John Mortimer, thus appealed to, laughed an amused laugh at the bare notion.
That laugh and the term, “a fellow like you,” destroyed the last of Tom’s wavering objections, and he yielded.