“Rather,” chimed in Parson.
“I’m glad you came,” said the captain. “We may as well have breakfast. Telson, have you forgotten how to boil eggs?”
Telson said emphatically he had not, and proceeded forthwith to give practical proof of his cunning, while Parson volunteered his aid in cutting up the bread, and buttering the toast.
In due time the preliminaries were all got through, and the trio sat down to partake of the reward of their toil.
Riddell could not thank his stars sufficiently that he had thought of embellishing his feast with the few luxuries from Fairbairn’s cupboard. Nothing could exceed the good-humour of the two juniors as one delicacy after another unfolded its charms and invited their attention. They accompanied their exertions with a running fire of chat and chaff, which left Riddell very little to do except gently to steer the conversation round towards the point for which this merry meeting was designed.
“Frightful job to get old Parson to turn up,” said Telson, taking his fourth go-in of potted meat; “he thought you were going to row him about that shindy in the Parliament!”
“No, I didn’t,” rejoined Parson, pushing up his cup for more tea. “It was you said that about blowing up us Skyrockets.”
“What a howling cram,” said Telson. “I never make bad jokes. You know, Riddell, it was Parson stuck us up to that business. He’s always at the bottom of the rows.”
Parson laughed at this compliment.
“You mean I always get into the rows,” said he.
“Anyhow, I don’t suppose the Skyrockets will show up again this term,” said Telson.
“They certainly did not get much encouragement last time,” said Riddell, laughing. “You know I don’t think you fellows do yourselves justice in things like that. Fellows get to think the only thing you’re good at is a row.”
“Fact is,” said Parson, “Telson thought we’d been so frightfully snubbed this term, we kids, that he said we ought to stick up for ourselves.”
“I said that?” cried Telson. “Why, you know it was you said it!”
“By the way,” said Parson, “wasn’t there to be a special meeting of the House to-day, for something or other?”
Telson looked rather uncomfortable, and then said, “Yes, I heard so. I fancy it’s about you, somehow,” added he, addressing Riddell.
“About me?” asked the captain.
“Yes — to kick you out, or something,” said Telson; “but Parson and I mean to go and vote against it.”
This was news to Riddell, and rather astonishing news too.
“To kick me out?” he asked. “What for?”
“Oh, you know,” said Parson. “It’s some bosh about that boat-race affair. Some of the chaps think you are mixed up in it, but of course it’s all a cram. I’ve told them so more than once.”
“It’s all those Parrett’s cads,” said Telson, taking up the matter from a schoolhouse point of view. “They’re riled about the race, and about the cricket-match, and everything else, and try to make out every one’s cheating.”
“Well, some one must have been cheating,” said Parson, a trifle warmly, “when he cut my rudder-lines; and he’s not likely to be one of our fellows — much more likely to be a schoolhouse cad!”
“I’ll fight you, you know, Parson!” put in Telson.
Riddell saw it was time to interfere. The conversation was drifting into an unprofitable channel, from which it would scarcely work its way out unassisted.
What he wanted was to find out whether there was any truth in the explanation which the diary afforded of young Wyndham’s conduct, and he was a long way from that yet.
“Have some more cake, Telson,” said he, by way of changing the subject.
Telson cheerfully accepted the invitation, while Parson, to spare his host the trouble of pressing him to take an apple, helped himself.
Then when they were well started once more the captain said, “Who’s going to win the juniors’ match, Parson? Our fellows quite think they are.”
“Yes,” said Parson, contemptuously; “I heard they had cheek enough to say so. But they’ll be disappointed for once.”
“Well,” said Riddell, “they’ve been practising pretty steadily of late. They’re not to be despised. Whatever has become of the juniors’ eleven in the schoolhouse, Telson?”
“Can’t make out,” replied Telson; “they’re an awful set of louts this year; only one or two good men in the lot. I don’t think they can scrape up an eleven.”
“Ah!” said the captain, seeing his chance; “you’ve lost a good many good fellows. Wyndham, for one, has got up into the second-eleven, I hear.”
“Yes,” said Parson; “and jolly cocky he is about it, too!”
“He’s not been down at the practices lately, though,” said Telson, colouring slightly, and for no apparent reason.
“Why? Is he seedy?” said the captain.
“Eh! No; I don’t think so. Wyndham’s not seedy, is he, should you think, Parson?”
“No,” said Parson, exchanging uncomfortable glances with his ally; “not exactly seedy.”
“It’ll be a pity if he doesn’t get playing in the Templeton match,” said Riddell.
Would the fish bite? If the diary had spoken true, these two boys were at present very full of Wyndham’s affair, and a trifle indignant with the captain himself for his supposed intention of reporting that youth’s transgression at headquarters. If that were so, Riddell considered it possible that, after their honest fashion, they might take upon themselves to give him a piece of their mind, which was exactly what he wanted.
“The fact is,” said Telson, “Parson and I both think he’s down in the mouth.”
“Indeed?” asked the captain, busily buttering a fresh slice of toast.
“Yes. Haven’t you seen it?” asked Parson.
“He’s in a funk about something or other,” said Telson.
It was getting near now!
“What about, do you know?” asked the captain.
“Why, you know,” said Telson. “About being expelled, you know.”
“Expelled! What for?” asked Riddell; and the boy’s reply gave him a satisfaction quite out of proportion to its merits.
“About Beamish’s, you know,” said Telson, confidentially; “he thinks you’re going to report him.”
“And he’s bound to get expelled if you do,” said Parson.
“And how do you know about it?” asked the captain, quietly.
“Oh! you know, Parson and I spotted them — that is, Gilks and Silk and him — that night of Brown’s party. But we never told anybody, and don’t mean to, so I don’t know how it came out.”
“Anyhow,” said Parson, “if he’s to be expelled, Silk and Gilks ought to catch it too. I bet anything they took him there. Thanks! a little piece.”
This last sentence was in reply to an invitation to take some more cake.
Under cover of this diversion, Riddell, with thankful heart, continued to steer the talk out again into the main channel of school affairs, of which the affair of Wyndham junior was but one of many.
Before the meal was over it had got as far Eutropius, and he fairly won his guests’ hearts by announcing that he did not consider that historian’s Latin nearly as good as Caesar’s, an opinion which they endorsed with considerable heat.
All good things come to an end at last, and so did this breakfast, the end of which found the boys in as great good-humour as at the beginning. They thanked the captain most profusely for his hospitality, which they never doubted was meant as a recognition of their own sterling merits, and of the few attempts they had lately made to behave themselves; and, after inviting him to come to a concert they were about to give on the evening of the juniors’ match, took their departure.