Almost at the same moment an ominous crack proclaimed that the good old door was giving way by degrees under the now renewed attack of the besiegers.
“They’ll have it, after all,” said Percy.
“Tell you what! Suppose we slip out by the window, and you chaps come and have supper in our room. Rather a lark, eh? It’s getting a bit slow here. Nice sell for them too. Besides, they can’t get at you over on our side.”
This hospitable invitation fitted in with the humour of the company generally, particularly as every moment the door gave a more doubtful sound than before.
In three minutes the whole party was on the grass below, where Fisher minor, returning breathless, with a candle and matches, encountered them.
“Come on, you chaps,” said Wally. “I’d give sixpence to see how they look when they find we’ve gone—ha! ha!”
They salved their honour with a keen sense of the humour of the situation, and followed their host across the Green in the dark, not at all sorry to have a harbour of refuge in sight, though very loth to admit that this rearward movement was a retreat.
At the door of Wakefield’s, to their consternation, they met Ranger.
“What on earth are all you youngsters up to at this hour?”
“It’s all right,” said Wally. “The shop committee, you know. We’re going to talk things over in my room. Come on, you Modern kids. We’ll make an exception for you this once, and let you into Wakefield’s; won’t we, Ranger? But it mustn’t occur again.”