The distinction was none other than a sign of recognition from the doctor and a friendly signal to approach.
Like a pair of small well-trained circus ponies the two friends obeyed the summons and climbed over the intervening skirts.
“Well, Telson and Parson,” said the doctor, shaking hands, “I’d no idea you were here—how are you?”
“We got a captain’s permit. Quite well, thank you, sir.”
“My dear, these are two of our boys, Telson and Parson.”
Mrs Patrick regarded the two boys in her usual precise way, and said,—
“Among so many boys under our roof, I find it impossible to remember every face. And which is Master Telson?”
“This is Telson,” said Parson. “He’s in the schoolhouse, you know—”
“I do not know,” said Mrs Patrick, severely.
“Don’t you?” said Parson, with genuine astonishment. “He’s captain’s fag, you know.”