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Is that you, Dig, old man?" "Yes, rather! Sit steady; we've got a ladder and ropes, and Marky's just down there. How are you?" Arthur rubbed his eyes, and his teeth chattered. "Pretty cold and stiff, old man. How jolly of you to come! You see, the mortar or something slipped, and I couldn't get up or down. I yelled, but you'd gone. At last I managed to get up again, and there I've stuck.
"Hullo, Daisy! Marky's here. There he comes. Here she is, Mr Railsford; here's Daisy! I say, Daisy," added he, in a confidential whisper, "you'd better not kiss him before all the fellows. Wait till you get up to our study."
If you could see that horrid Victorian drawing-room at Miss Severance's you could stand even sticky kitties in a picture. I don't care about the interior decoration as long as Marky's little interior gets decorated decently. But this tea is simply terrible. Orange pekoe!
It wanted a very few dropping and facetious introductions on the way, such as, "Daisy, you know, my sister," or "What cheer, Sherry? ever hear of Chuckey?" or, "No good, Maple, my boy, bespoke!" to set the rumour going that Daisy Herapath, Marky's "spoon," was come, and was "on show" in Herapath's study.
He'd no business to cut up rough like that." "Fact is," replied Arthur, "Marky's got to draw the line somewhere. He knows he's in a jolly row about that business, you know, and he doesn't want a testimonial for it. I don't blame him. I'll get Daisy to buy the ring in the holidays, and we can have the fellows to a blow-out next term with the money."
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