The outer door of the schoolhouse was still unopened, and he paced outside, as it seemed to him, for half an hour before he could get in.
He went at once to Wyndham’s study, and found that young athlete arraying himself in his cricket flannels.
“Hullo, Riddell!” cried he, as the captain entered; “have you come to see the practice? We’re going to play a scratch match with some of the seniors. You play too, will you?”
The captain did not reply to this invitation, and his serious face convinced Wyndham something must be wrong.
“What’s up, I say?” he inquired, looking concerned.
“Nothing very pleasant,” said Riddell. “You heard of the fight last night?”
“Eh? between Silk and Gilks? Yes. I half guessed it would come to that. They’ve been quarrelling a lot lately.”
“I reported them, and they are to go to the doctor’s after breakfast,” said Riddell.
“They’ll catch it, I expect,” said Wyndham. “Paddy’s sure to be down on them because they’re seniors.”
“They expect to catch it. At least, Silk says so. He came to me last night and tried to get me to withdraw the names. And when I said I couldn’t be threatened to tell about you, and get you into a row.”