“Let’s see if he’s in,” said he; “he won’t mind.”
“All right,” said I, beginning to quail again a little, and yet determined to go through with the whole business.
Redwood was in, mending a pair of skates, in anticipation of a day or two’s frost before the holidays were over.
“Look here, Redwood,” said Dicky, determined to make things easy for me. “Old Jones minimus is in the blues. He’s been fooling it rather this term, you know, but he’s a bit sick of it, and we thought you’d like to know, didn’t we, young Jones minimus?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind, Redwood,” said I.
“Wait a bit—tea’s just ready. We’ll have ours up here,” said the captain.
Over tea Dicky trotted out my troubles second-hand to our host, appealing to me every now and then to confirm his statement that I’d rather “mucked” it over this and that, and so on.
Redwood nibbled away at his tea, looking up now and then with a friendly nod to show he agreed with all that was said about me.
When all was said, he remarked—
“I wouldn’t worry, youngster, if I were you. It’s been a poor show last term, but you’ll pull yourself together right enough. Take my advice, and lie low a bit, that’s the best thing for your complaint.”