"I suppose so," replied Glyn. "I seem to have always had enough, while as for you, you're as rich as rich; quite a king you'll be some day, with servants and a little army, and everything you want. I say, what do you mean to do with all your money?"

"I don't know," said Singh, laughing, and then knitting his brows, "but I should like to give Wrench some. He's such a good, hard-working fellow, and always does everything you tell him with such a pleasant smile. I wonder how he will get all he wants. Do you think he will find it some day in a garden or in the street?"

"Or have a big lump of it tumble out of the moon, or find that it's been raining gold all over the Doctor's lawn some morning when he gets up?

No, I don't--not a bit; and there goes the breakfast-bell, so come along."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A SQUABBLE.

"Anybody seen anything of Singh?" cried Glyn one day as he went out into the cricket-field, where Slegge was batting to the bowling of some of his little slaves and several of the older boys were looking on.

"Baa! Baa! Baa!" cried Slegge, imitating a sheep, and stopping to rest upon his bat. "Hark at the great lamb calling after its black shepherd!

Go on, some of you, and help me," and in answer to his appeal a chorus of bleating arose, in which, in obedience to a gesture made with the bat, the little bowlers and fielders were forced to join.

"Well, if I were a quarrelsome chap," said Glyn to himself, "I should just go up to Master Slegge and put my fist up against his nose. Great, stupid, malicious hobbledehoy! But it's very plain Singhy hasn't been here. Now, where can he be? Gone down the town perhaps to buy something--cakes or fruit I suppose. How fond he is of something nice to eat? But there, he always gives a lot away to the little fellows.

Well, so do I, if you come to that; but I don't think it's because I give them buns and suckers that they all like me as they do. Well, I suppose that's where Singh's gone; but he might have told me and asked me to go with him."

The boy strolled back with the intention of going into the cla.s.s-room, now empty, to sit down and have a good long read; but as he drew near the house he came upon the page, who, wonderful to relate, displayed a face without a vestige of blacking.

"Hi, Sam!" cried Glyn. "Seen anything of Mr Singh?"

"Yes, sir; I see him down the town--saw him down the town, sir, I mean,"

said the boy hastily, recalling the fact that he had been corrected several times about his use of the verb "To see."

"Saw him down the town," he muttered to himself. "See, saw; see, saw.

Wish I could recollect all that."

"Which way was he going?" said Glyn.

"Straight down, sir, towards the church, along of Mr Morris, sir."

"Humph! Gone for a walk, I suppose," said Glyn thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir, they were walking, sir. Shall I tell him you want him, sir, when he comes back?"

"Oh no, I don't think you need. I dare say he'll come to me," replied Glyn, and he strolled into the big cla.s.s-room, unlocked his desk, got out a book of travels, opened it at one particular spot which he had reached a day or two before, and then began to read, growing so interested that a couple of hours glided away like half of one.

Then, closing the book with a sigh, as the dial on the wall insisted upon the fact that time was pa.s.sing, he replaced the work and went up to his room to prepare for the evening meal.

"What a pity it is," he said, "that half-holidays will go so quickly.

Cla.s.sic afternoons always seem three times as long, and so do Mr Morris's lessons. I wish I were not so stupid over mathematics."

On reaching the door of his room he thrust it open quietly, and found Singh kneeling down before his Indian bullock-trunk, lifting out some of its contents ready to make place for something else.

"Why, hallo! There you are, then!" Singh started as sharply as if he had received a slap on the shoulder, scrambled up something long tied up in brown paper that lay by his side, thrust it into the trunk, and began to cover it quickly with some of the articles that had been taken out.

"Ha, ha! Caught you!" cried Glyn. "What have you got there? Cakes or a box of sweets?"

"Neither," said Singh rather slowly.

"Oh, all right, I don't want to know," cried Glyn good-humouredly. "But I know: you mean a surprise--a tuck-out to-night when we come to bed.

Who are you going to ask?"

"No one," said Singh shortly.

"Oh, I would. Ask Burney and Miller. They're good chaps, only Slegge keeps them under his thumb so. They'd give anything to break away, I know."

Singh was silent.

"Here, I say," cried Glyn, "I tell you what would be a rare good bit of fun, and if the Doctor knew he wouldn't notice it. Let's get about a dozen of the little chaps some night, Burton and Robson, the small juniors, and give them a regular good feed quite late. They would enjoy it. What do you say?"

"Yes," said Singh; "to be sure we will."

"I say," said Glyn, "I'd have come with you if you had asked me this afternoon. What a close old chap you are! Where have you been? Here, I'm going to see what you have got there."

"No, no!" cried Singh excitedly, as Glyn stepped forward, only meaning it as a feint; and the boy threw himself across the open box, to begin scrambling the dislodged things over the something that was loosely covered with brown paper, and in his hurry and excitement, instead of hiding it thoroughly, exposing one small corner. But it was quite big enough to let Glyn see what it was; and, laughing aloud, he cried:

"Why, what a coward you are! I was only pretending."

Singh hurriedly closed the lid of the trunk.

"Where have you been?"

Singh was silent for a moment, for a struggle was going on in his mind.

"I have been out for a walk with Mr Morris," he said.

"Well, there's no harm in that," said Glyn. "Where did you go? Across the park, or down by the river?"

Singh was silent for a moment or two once more, and then in a hurried way he seemed to master his reserve, and said:

"We didn't go regularly for a walk. We went to see Professor Barclay."

"Mr Morris took you to see Professor Barclay?" said Glyn.

"Yes, yes; but I wish you wouldn't keep on questioning me so."

"Well, I want to know," said Glyn quietly. "You don't speak out and tell me, so I am obliged to ask."

"Well," said Singh gloomily, "I want to be open and tell you; but you are such a queer fellow."

"Yes, I am," said Glyn, looking hard at his companion.

"Well, so you are," said Singh half-angrily; "and you are so fond of finding fault with me and not liking what I do."