“I thought from your tones you were going to confess a murder, at least. You’d better look alive and get the half-crown back.”
“That’s just it. I lent it in the dark to a—a Modern chap; and I don’t know his name.”
“Upon my honour, Joey, you are a— Well, it’s no good saying what you are. I hope you’ll see your money again, that’s all.”
Fisher minor groaned.
“Would you ever mind lending me half-a-crown for the clubs, just this once?” he pleaded.
“Very convenient arrangement. I suppose I shall have to. At least I’ll mark you as paid; and if you’ve not got back what you’ve lent your friend before I have to shell out, I shall have to pay it for you.”
“Thanks, Tom; you’re an awful brick,” said the younger brother, brightening up rapidly. “I say, I wish I could be your fag. Couldn’t I?”
“Ranger’s bagged you—you’ll get on better with him than me. He won’t stand as much nonsense as I might. There! he is calling. Cut along, and don’t go making such an ass of yourself again. You’ll have to get on the best you can with your fellows; I can’t interfere with them unless they break rules, you know. You can come in here, of course, any time you like, and if you want a leg-up with preparation, and Ranger’s busy, you may as well do your work here.”
After this Fisher major felt a little easier in his conscience, and was able to face the tasks of the day with a lighter mind than if he had had the care of his minor upon it all the time.
The school work of the day was not particularly onerous. Dr Ringwood, the head-master, held a sort of reception of the Sixth, and delivered, as was his wont, a little lecture on the work to be taken up during the ensuing half, interspersed with a few sarcastic references to the work of the previous half, and one or two jokes, which scoffers like Ridgway used to say must have cost him many serious hours during the holidays to develop.