Again D’Arcy got the worst of the laugh.
“Didn’t you hear me say I’d only just got enough to pay for my own? But I tell you what; you can hide under the table. You’re not known.”
Ashby looked round, and felt about with his foot under the table to ascertain what room there might be there. Then he flushed up. “No, I shan’t,” said he; “I’d get into the row instead.”
As his eye travelled round and marked the curious smile on every face it suddenly dawned upon him that he had been “done.” His first sensation was one of immense relief. He should not have to pay for his dinner after all! His second was a cunning device for getting out of the dilemma.
“I thought you’d begin to laugh soon,” said he to D’Arcy. “I knew you couldn’t keep it up.”
D’Arcy turned very red in the face and glared at this audacious youngster in deserved wrath.
“What do you mean, you young ass? You know you’ve swallowed it all.”
“He swallowed all the grub anyhow,” said another.
“No, I’ve not,” said Master Ashby. “I’d have another go-in now. I knew he’d have to laugh in the end.”
It was hopeless to deal seriously with a rebel of this sort. D’Arcy tried to ride off on the high horse; but it was not a very grand spectacle, and Ashby, munching up the remains of his roll, was generally held to have scored. The relief with which he hailed the discovery of his mistake was so genuine, and the good spirits and appetite the incident put into him were so imperturbable, as to disarm further experiment at his expense, and he was left comparatively free to enjoy the noise and imbibe his first impression of Fellsgarth in his own way.