He met master and puppy in the passage one afternoon.
“Hullo, young ’un,” said he, “another dog? How many’s that?”
“Two,” said Arthur, a little doubtful as to the prefect’s reception of the news. “You see it would be rough to take him from his mother while he is so young. It’s not as if he was no relation.”
“Of course not. What have you been doing with Marky these holidays?”
“Oh, he was seedy—sore throat. I fancy he was shamming a bit to get a week extra. You see, he’s spoons on my sister Daisy.”
“I fancy I’ve heard that before,” observed Felgate.
“What I mean is, he hangs about our place a lot; so it’s a good excuse for him to be laid up, you know.”
“Quite so. Perhaps he’s not in a hurry to come back here for another reason we know of, eh, youngster?”
“Ha, ha! but keep that mum, you know. We must back him through that business. It’s nearly blown over already.”
“Has it? But, I say—”