These heroes were naturally a little disgusted on turning up at the rendezvous to find the room crowded, with scarcely standing space to space, by a troop of hungry and noisy juniors. The good hosts perspired with the heat of the room, and, as guest after guest crowded in, began to look a little anxious at the modest fare on the table, and speculate mentally on how far one loaf, one pot of jam, four pats of butter, a pint coffee-pot, and three-and-a-half tea-cups would go round the lot. At length, when Stafford arrived, and could not get in at the door for the crush, despair seized them.
“You kids had better hook it,” said Arthur, to half a dozen of the juniors, who had squeezed themselves into a front rank near the table. “There’s not room to-day. Come to-morrow.”
Loud were the complaints, not unmingled with threatenings and gibes, of these disappointed Babies.
“What a horrible shame!” exclaimed Jukes, in a very audible voice. “We were here first.”
“Do you hear?—cut!” repeated the host.
“Come, along,” said Bateson; “what’s the use of bothering about a crumb and a half a-piece? I never saw such a skinny spread in all my days.”
And in the ten years which comprehended Master Bateson’s “days” he had had a little experience of that sort of thing.
The company being now reduced to eight, to wit, Stafford, the four Fifth-form boys, the two hosts, and Dimsdale, assumed more manageable proportions. There was room at least to move an arm or a leg, and even to shut the door. But when it came to taking seats, it still became evident that the table could by no possibility hold more than six. Another crisis thereupon arose. Dimsdale was regretfully dismissed, and departed scarlet in the face, promising, as he slammed the door, to show “up” his hosts. These amiable worthies, much distressed, and not a whit cooler that the room was now comparatively empty, smiled feebly at this threat, and arranged to sit on one another’s laps, so as to bring the company finally down to the capabilities of the table. But at this juncture Stafford, who had grown tired of waiting, and evidently saw little prospect of conviviality in the entertainment, remembered that he had some work to do before morning school, and rose to leave.
“Why, we’ve not begun yet,” gasped his hosts.
“I really must go. Thanks for asking me. I’ve enjoyed it so much,” said the amiable prefect, departing.