“Well, it might be warmish for him if he did.”
“Very warmish,” said Gilks, with a scowl, which it was just as well for Wyndham’s comfort he did not see.
There was a silence, during which Gilks whistled to himself, and Silk regarded his ally with a smile.
“You are a nice boy!” he broke out presently. And the laugh which greeted this very unoriginal observation closed the conversation for a time.
Meanwhile, down at the boat-house things were getting very lively.
Telson, Philpot, Pilbury, Cusack, King, and other of our juvenile friends, who, with their usual modesty, proposed to run along with the race, and now formed part of the crowd which awaited the start, kept up a boisterous chorus of shouts, some of defiance, some of derision, some of applause, addressed alternately to foe and friend.
The young Welchers especially, having no personal interest in the race, felt themselves delightfully free to make themselves objectionable to all parties, and took full advantage of the circumstance.
They howled at everybody and everything. Whenever King and Bosher greeted the appearance of the Parrett’s boat with a friendly cheer they hooted; and no sooner did Telson sing out to welcome the crew of his house, but they caterwauled derisively in the same direction.
“Jolly lot they know about rowing!” yelled Cusack.
“Why don’t you give them some lessons?” retorted Telson, hotly.