“Indeed? Let me see, who is the head master?” inquired the lady.
“Oh, Paddy—that old boy there by the fire. And that’s Mrs Paddy there with the curls.”
Miss Stringer appeared to receive another shock at this piece of information, which, however, Telson, flattered by her evident interest in his remarks, did not take to heart.
“And,” said she, presently, with a slight nervousness in her voice, “I hope you like them?”
“Oh,” blurted out Telson, “Paddy’s not so bad, but the dame’s an old beast, you know—at least, so fellows say. I say,” added he, “don’t you tell her I said so!”
Miss Stringer regarded him with a peculiar smile, which the boy at once took to mean a promise. So he rattled on. “And she’s got a sister, or somebody hangs about the place, worse than any of them. Why, when old Wynd—”
“And,” said Miss Stringer, suddenly—“and which house are you in—in the schoolhouse?”
“Hullo, then! you know Willoughby?” demanded Telson sharply.
Miss Stringer looked confused, as well she might, but replied, “Ah! all public schools have a schoolhouse, have they not?”
“I suppose so,” said Telson. “Yes, I’m a schoolhouse fellow. I’m the captain’s fag, you know—old Riddell.”