“We shall get into trouble, sir,” added the baronet, “for getting up without the medical’s leave. He told us to stay in bed, and—”
Here another cough, which, however, was promptly suppressed.
“You will get into no more trouble with him than you have got into already for getting up last night after he had gone, and acting in the farce in the Fourth class-room.”
The culprits regarded one another with looks of consternation.
“Did you see us then?” asked Arthur. “You see, Marky—Mr Railsford I mean—we’d promised to—”
“I want no explanations, Arthur; you had no business to get up then, and you’ve no business not to get up now. Shamming isn’t honourable, and that ought to be reason enough why you and Oakshott should drop it.”
After this the delinquents dressed in silence and followed their master down to the class-room, where the ironical welcome of their fellows by no means tended to smooth their ruffled plumage.
However, as they were down, their colds recovered in ample time to allow of their taking part in the cricket practice in the afternoon; and the exercise had a wonderful effect in reconciling them to their compulsory convalescence.
They were sitting, half working, half humbugging, in their study at preparation-time, when Railsford again looked in. “Herapath,” said he, “if you bring your Cicero down to my room presently, I’ll show you the passages marked for the Swift Exhibition.”
In due time Arthur presented himself. He and Digby between them had smelt a rat.