“Let us go, you cad!” yelled the prisoners. “What do you want bringing us here into this place for?”
“Fun,” said Ashby. “You’ll know presently.”
“If you don’t let us out, we’ll yell till a master comes.”
“Will you?—we’re used to yelling here. Yell away; it’ll do you good.”
To the credit of the two “voters” they did their best, and made such a hideous uproar that Ashby began to grow uneasy, and was immensely relieved when presently he heard outside a sound as of coals being carelessly carried up the staircase. Some one was evidently coming up with a good load.
Ashby was prudent enough not to open the door till an irregular double kick and a breathless cry of “Balbus, look sharp,” apprised him that another of the electioneering agents had returned. He then cautiously opened the door, and in tumbled D’Arcy, gasping, yet triumphant, under the weight of three fractious youngsters.
“Bully for us,” said he, surveying the harvest. “Five for our side. Jolly well done of you, kid—you’re a stunner. Two of mine are new kids—they came easy enough; but the other’s a regular badger.”
The badger in question seemed determined to maintain his reputation, for he flew upon his captor, calling upon his fellow-prisoners to do the same. All but the new boys obeyed, and the two “canvassers” were very hard put to it for a while, and might have fared yet worse, had not D’Arcy astutely hung out a flag of truce. “Look here,” said he; “I never knew such idiots as you Modern kids are. Here I’ve done my best to be friends and invited you to a spread in my room; and now you won’t even let me go to the cupboard and get out the black currant jam and cake.”
“You’re telling crams; that’s not why you brought us here. You’re a howling—”
“Yes, really,” said D’Arcy, in quite a friendly tone, “Cry pax for one minute, and if I don’t hand out the things you may go; honour bright. I’ve a good mind to kick you out without giving you anything.”