Part 30 (1/2)

”Brought the lads home quite safe, captain,” said old Teggley Grey.

”Shall I take Mars Robert's box on to the town, doctor?”

The old carrier remained unanswered, for we were both being heartily shaken by the hand, while old Sam came up smiling to carry in my box.

”Yes, take on the other box, Grey,” cried the doctor. ”We shall walk home, Bob.”

”After a good tea,” put in my father; and I found that meal awaiting us all, and very hearty and cosy it looked after the formal repasts at school.

”Why, you've both grown,” said the doctor, as we sat down in the snug old room, where every object around seemed to be welcoming me.

”Yes, that they have,” said my father. ”Your Bob has the best of it too.”

”Trifle,” said the doctor, ”trifle. Well, sir, how many suits of clothes shall you want this time? I've never heard any more of the ones you lost.”

I saw Bob turn red and take a vicious bite out of a piece of bread and b.u.t.ter.

”They're nearly six months older now,” said my father smiling, as he performed the feminine task of pouring out the tea, ”and they'll be more careful.”

”Will they?” said the doctor emphatically. ”You see if the young varlets are not in trouble before the week's out, sir.”

”Let's hope not,” said my father. ”Come, boys, help yourselves to the ham and eggs.”

”Come, boys, help yourselves to the ham and eggs!” said Bob Chowne to me, as soon as we were alone. ”Who's to help himself to ham and eggs when he's having the suit of clothes he lost banged about his unfortunate head? It regularly spoiled my tea.”

”Why, Bob,” I cried, ”you had three big cups, six pieces of bread and b.u.t.ter, two slices of ham, three eggs, a piece of cake, and some cream.”

”There's a sneak--there's a way to treat a fellow!” he cried, growing spiky all over, and snorting with annoyance. ”Ask a poor chap to tea, and then count his mouthfuls. Well, that is mean.”

”Why, I only said so because you declared you had had a bad tea.”

”So I did--miserable,” he retorted. ”I seemed to see myself again sitting at home in those old worn-out clothes, and afraid to go out at any other time but night, when no one was looking.”

”Now, Bob: where are you?” cried his father. ”I'll take him off at once, Duncan, or he'll eat you out of house and home.”

”Hear that?” cried Bob, ”hear that? Pretty way to talk of a fellow, isn't it. I don't wonder everybody hates me. I'm about the most miserable chap that ever was.”

”Not you, Bob. Come over to-morrow.”

”What for?”

”Oh, I don't know. We'll go rabbiting or something.”

”Now, Bob!” came from the doctor.

”Here, I must go. Good-bye. I'll come if I can. I wish I was you, or old Bigley, or somebody else.”

”Or back at school,” I said laughing.

”Yes, or back at school,” he said quite seriously; and then his arm was grasped by his father.