“He won’t do it here, if I can help,” said Tempest, with a frown.
“Well, have some more tea,” said Pridgin, “before you begin operations. Here, kid, make a fresh brew, sharp, and then cut.”
What I had heard had been quite enough to satisfy me that things were not running altogether smoothly at Low Heath, and that Tempest was not beginning his new duties as head of his house in the best of tempers. I confess I felt a little uneasy. For I knew my old chief’s impulsive, generous nature well enough to be sure that he might easily get himself into trouble for the sake of other people. His friends were evidently glad enough to let him fight their battles, but were not likely, at least so it seemed to me, to take much trouble to help him through with them.
I was wandering rather disconsolately down the passage when it occurred to me I did not know what I was expected to do or where I was expected to go.
I therefore ventured to accost a senior who was lounging about at the head of the stairs.
“If you please,” said I, “I’m a new boy—can you tell me where to go?”
The senior, a bland, good-looking sort of youth, surveyed me carefully and replied—
“To bed, I should say.”
“All right, thanks,” said I; “which way is that?”
He laughed pleasantly.