“Don’t, Dicky;” said I; “I—I—”
“You’re almost as big an ass as you look,” said Dicky, “and that’s saying something. Come and see my experiment.”
I was not in a scientific mood, but anything was welcome to change the subject. So I took Dicky’s arm and went.
Dicky was a queer boy. He was of an inventive turn of mind, and given up to science. His experiments rarely succeeded, and when they did they almost invariably landed him in disgrace. Still he persevered and hoped some day to make a hit.
He explained to me, as we walked down the garden, that he had lately been taking an interest in the pond.
It was all I could do to appear only moderately interested in this announcement. Had not I an interest in the pond too? What followed was even more uncomfortable.
“You know Lesseps and all those chaps?” said he.
“He left before I came, I think,” said I.
Dicky laughed unfeelingly.
“I mean the chap who cut the Suez Canal,” said he.