“They all swore, I think,” said Stephen; “and then, you know, when I wouldn’t do what they wanted they said they’d throw me in the river, and then you fellows turned up.”
“Did Loman tell them to throw you in the river?” said Oliver, whose brow had been growing darker and darker.
“Oh, no,” exclaimed Stephen, “he didn’t, really! I think he was sorry.”
“Did he try to prevent it, then?” asked Oliver.
“Well, no; I didn’t hear him say—” faltered Stephen; but Oliver shut him up, and turning to Wraysford said, “Wray, I shall thrash Loman.”
“All serene,” replied Wraysford; “you’d better have it out to-night.”
“Oh, Noll!” cried Stephen in great distress; “don’t fight, please. It was all my fault, for—”
“Shut up, Stee,” said Oliver, quietly, but not unkindly. Then turning to Wraysford, he added, “After tea, then, Wray, in the gymnasium.”
“Right you are!” replied his friend.
And then, without another word, the three rowed back to Saint Dominic’s.