Simson treated this evasive reply as a consent, and wrote Digs name down, there and then, in his presence.
“Come on, Herapath,” said he, making a last appeal. “Don’t desert your old friends.”
“I tell you I can’t say anything till to-morrow,” said Arthur, a little crusty.
Simson gave it up and departed.
“Felgate seems to be bowling wide just now,” observed Dig. “I shouldn’t have fancied he’d have gone in for this sort of thing.”
“Why shouldn’t he, just as much as you?” growled Arthur.
“I? I haven’t gone in for it yet.”
“Oh yes, you have; your name’s down.”
“Only as last man in, though, in case he should get filled up.”
“Doesn’t matter whether you go in first or last, you’re in the game.”