As they were Naturalist Field Club people, our boys supposed they knew what they were saying, and dismissed their qualms in consequence.
Wellham Abbey was ten miles off. Most of the party proposed to reach it on foot. Mr Roe was driving with the doctor and his niece, and one or two others, like Railsford, preferred to travel on wheels.
Dig was standing somewhat lugubriously beside Arthur, inspecting the tandem, and wondering how he was to get to Wellham, when Mr Grover came up and said to Railsford—
“How are you going, Railsford? Not in that concern, are you? Come and walk with me, I’ve not had a chat with you for ages.”
Arthur felt a violent dig in his ribs from the delighted baronet. There was a chance for the “high old time” yet.
“Well, the fact is, I’d promised one of my boys to give him the ride,” said the Master of the Shell.
“Oh, please don’t mind me,” said Arthur. “Oakshott and I can bring the machine for you to Wellham, if you’d sooner walk.”
“Is Oakshott going?”
“Yes, sir. Stafford’s asked him, hasn’t he, Dig?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve scouted for Stafford at cricket this term, so he’s asked me to-day; and I’ve done my lines, sir.”