“No,” I answered. Then, guessing he might have the same antipathies as Tempest, I volunteered—
“Crofter’s not asked.”
My companion opened his eyes. “Indeed—why?”
“I don’t know. Only I know Tempest wouldn’t have gone if he had been. Please which way do I go?”
“What objection has Tempest to Crofter?”
“I don’t know—I suppose he’s a beast. Tempest hates beasts.”
The boy laughed.
“He must be very fond of you,” said he.
“Yes,” said I, “we’re old chums; we were at Dangerfield together, and both got ex—”
There I was, after Tempest’s warning about keeping my exhibition dark.