“Now then, boys,” cried the doctor, “there’s room for one inside. Telson, will you come?”
Telson bounded up on to the box without another word, and Parson beside him, and the fly drove off.
“Oh, Parson, old man, I’m a gone coon!” exclaimed Telson, in tones of abject misery, as soon as they were clear of the Browns’ premises.
“Why, what’s up?”
“Miss Stringer!”
“What about her? Isn’t she a cad, eh?”
“Yes, and I told her so,” groaned Telson; “I didn’t know who she was, and I said—”
“Hullo, I say, look there!” exclaimed Parson, suddenly catching his friend by the arm.
They were passing the Aquarium, which at that moment was disgorging its visitors. Among those who emerged exactly as the doctor’s fly passed were three boys, whom Telson and Parson recognised in a moment.
They were Silk and Gilks and another younger boy, who seemed to shrink from observation, and whose head was turned another way as the fly passed. The three, immediately on gaining the street, started to run towards Willoughby ahead of the fly.