"Morbid! morbid!" replied the vicar gaily, "do not go out in a coach and four to meet your troubles, my lad--see Patience first--if your thoughts prove true there will be time enough to lament them, but with youth and brains on your side you should not turn recreant in the battle of life."
"Nor will I," said Reggy, grasping the kind hand held out towards him. "Whatever comes or goes I have at least one man who has been to me father and mother both."
Then, overcome by his emotion, he hastily left the room, while the vicar, taking up the bronze sword, prepared to follow.
"Ah!" said the worthy gentleman with a sigh. "I trust his forebodings may not prove true, but Patience Allerby knows more than she tells, and I fear for the worst; however, _Non si male nunc et olim sic erit_, and the boy has at least had a few happy years--what says glorious John?
'Not heaven itself over the past hath power For what hath been hath been, And I have had my hour.'"
And with this somewhat pagan sentiment Dr. Larcher went away to discuss the Bronze period, illustrated by the newly-found sword, with a certain old crony who always differed from him and constantly said "No," to the vicar's "Yes."
A snake you were in other days Ere you attained the human state; Still in your veins the snake blood plays Which leads you now to gloze and hate, The magic of the serpent gaze Lurks in your eyes to fascinate.
As it was a holiday the pupils were left to their own devices, and on going outside, Blake found Dick Pemberton amusing himself with Muffins and a fishing rod. Ferdinand having been worsted by the volatile Dick, had long since departed to work at a tragedy he was composing, and Mr. Pemberton was evidently getting ready for a fishing excursion in company with Muffins.
"Now what do you think you are doing?" asked Reggy pausing at the door.
"None so blind as those who won't see," retorted Dick coolly. "I'm goin' fishin'."
"With the accent on the 'G'," replied Richard gaily. "Don't be a pedant, old chap--fishin' means the same thing as fishing, and not so much trouble to say. I suppose I ought to call Muffins 'Muffings.'"
"Oh, bosh!" retorted Reggy politely, walking down to the gate.
"Quite right--it is bosh, oh King. Where are you off to?"