He rose with some alacrity.
"Ho, if that's all, I'm bloomin' well on! It's a walk over, guv'nor—that's wot it is, a ruddy walk over."
"He can have my belt," said Tommy, unstrapping the article in question and tossing it across. "I'll go and get a salmon rod. They're hanging up in the passage."
He stepped through the archway, and took down a rod from the row of pegs, carrying it out through the side door into the garden, where we all three joined him.
Both Mortimer and I felt hugely excited, but neither the duke nor Tommy betrayed any special emotion.
"You'd better take your Sunday suit off," said the latter. "It'll give you a better chance."
The duke shook his head.
"I'll just shift me boots," he announced. "The water won't 'urt these 'ere duds."
"On the contrary," said Mortimer unkindly, "it ought to do 'em a bit of good. But you'll find it devilish wet walking afterwards."
"They'll dry quick enough," replied the duke, "with this 'ere sun."