Railsford looked at him curiously.

"You surely forget, Felgate, that you are not speaking to a boy in the Sh.e.l.l."

"No, I don't. I know you're a master, and head of a house, and a man who ought to be everything that's right and good--"

"Come, come," interrupted Railsford, "we have had enough of this. You are excited and forget yourself to talk in this foolish way."

And he quitted the study.

What, he wondered, could be the meaning of all this wild outbreak on the part of the detected prefect? What did he mean by that "If you knew all I know"? It sounded like one of those vague menaces with which Arthur had been wont to garnish his utterances last term. What did Felgate know, beyond the secret of his own wrong-doings, which could possibly affect the Master of the Sh.e.l.l?

It flashed across Railsford suddenly--suggested perhaps by the connection of two ideas--that Arthur himself might be in some peril or difficulty. It was long since the master had attempted to control the secret of his prospective relationship with the vivacious young Sh.e.l.l- fish. Everybody knew about it as soon as ever he set foot in Grandcourt, and Daisy's name was common property all over the house.

Arthur had contrived to reap no small advantage from the connection.

The prefects had pretty much left him alone, and, as a relative of the master, he had been tacitly winked at in many of his escapades, with a leniency which another boy could not have hoped for.

What if now Arthur should lie under the shadow of some peril which, if it fell, must envelop him and his brother-in-law both? If, for instance, he had committed some capital offence, which if brought to light should throw on him (Railsford) the terrible duty of nipping in the bud the school career of Daisy's own brother? It seemed the only solution to Felgate's mysterious threat, and it made him profoundly uncomfortable.

He felt he had not done all the might for the boy. He had been so scrupulously careful not to give any pretext for a charge of favouritism, that he had even neglected him at times. Now and then he had had a chat; but Arthur had such a painful way of getting into awkward topics that such conferences were usually short and formal. He had occasionally given an oversight to the boy's work; but Arthur so greatly preferred to "mug," as he called it, in his own study, that opportunities for serious private coaching had been quite rare.

Recently, too, a difference had sprung up between Arthur and Marky about the Smileys; and Railsford felt that he had not done all he might to smooth over that bitter memory and recover the loyalty and affection of the bereaved dog-fancier. It may have been some or all of these notions which prompted the master to invite his young kinsman to accompany him on the following day--being the mid-term holiday--on an expedition into the country.

The occasion had been chosen by the Grandcourt Naturalists' Field Club for their yearly picnic. This club was a very select, and, by repute, dry inst.i.tution, consisting partly of scientific boys and partly of masters. Its supposed object was to explore the surrounding country for geological, botanical, and historical specimens, which were, when found, deposited in a museum which n.o.body in the school on any pretext ever visited.

Every member had the privilege of introducing a friend, but no one took advantage of the invitation, except once a year, on the occasion of the annual picnic, when there was always a great rush, and a severe compet.i.tion to be numbered among the happy partic.i.p.ants of the club's hospitality.

It was long since Arthur had given up all idea of joining these happy parties. Great therefore was his astonishment and delight when on the evening before the term holiday Railsford put his head into the study and said--

"Arthur, would you like to come to-morrow to the Field Club picnic at Wellham Abbey?"

"Rather," said Arthur.

"Very well; be ready at ten. I've ordered a tandem tricycle."

Arthur was in ecstasy. If there was one kind of spree he liked it was a picnic at an abbey; and if there was one sort of conveyance he doated on it was a tricycle. He wiped off every score on his mental slate against Marky, and voted him the greatest brick going, and worthy to be backed up to the very end--especially if they had oysters at the picnic!

"Wish _you_ could come, old man," said he to Dig, who was groaning over his 100 lines of Livy.

"I wouldn't go with him if he asked me, the cad!" growled Dig.

"No, he's not a cad. If it hadn't been for him you wouldn't have seen one of your stamps back; and you might have been expelled straight away into the bargain. Tell you what, Dig, you've been scouting for Stafford all the last week; he ought to do something for you. Why don't you ask him to take you? He'll do it, like a shot. He's always civil to us."

Dig thought it over.

"If he says Yes, will you help me polish off my lines?"

"All right. I say, go soon, or somebody else may have asked him."

Dig went, and to his satisfaction was informed that Stafford would take him, if he promised to be steady. Which of course he did promise. So between them the two chums polished off the Livy--never was the great historian made such mincemeat of before or after--and then gave themselves over to delightful antic.i.p.ations of the Field Club picnic.

One misgiving disturbed Arthur's peace of mind. Railsford might make a base use of his opportunity as partner on the tricycle to corner him about his misdeeds and generally to "jaw" him. Besides, as Dig was going too, it would be ever so much jollier if Dig and he could go to Wellham together and let the masters go by themselves.

"We must work it somehow, Dig," said Arthur. "If we go we must have a high old time--and not be let in for a lot of rot about old bones and fossils and that sort of thing."

"Rather not," said Dig, "though I wouldn't mind if we could get hold of a skull. It would look prime on the mantelpiece."

"Gammer, who went last year, says it was an awful go-to-meeting turn- out. Top-hats, and service at the abbey, and scarcely a bit of grub; but I hear the spread's to be rather good this year, down by the river's edge."

"Hooroo!" said Dig, "I guess you and I will be about when they call over for that part of the spree."

The morning was dull and cloudy, and Dig and Arthur as they stood on the hall steps and looked up at the sky, debated with themselves whether the day would hold up long enough to allow of the picnic at the water's edge. To their relief, the other excursionists who gradually a.s.sembled took a hopeful view of the weather and predicted that it would be a fine afternoon, whatever the morning might be.

As they were Naturalist Field Club people, our boys supposed they knew what they were saying, and dismissed their qualms in consequence.

Wellham Abbey was ten miles off. Most of the party proposed to reach it on foot. Mr Roe was driving with the doctor and his niece, and one or two others, like Railsford, preferred to travel on wheels.

Dig was standing somewhat lugubriously beside Arthur, inspecting the tandem, and wondering how he was to get to Wellham, when Mr Grover came up and said to Railsford--

"How are you going, Railsford? Not in that concern, are you? Come and walk with me, I've not had a chat with you for ages."

Arthur felt a violent dig in his ribs from the delighted baronet. There was a chance for the "high old time" yet.

"Well, the fact is, I'd promised one of my boys to give him the ride,"

said the Master of the Sh.e.l.l.

"Oh, please don't mind me," said Arthur. "Oakshott and I can bring the machine for you to Wellham, if you'd sooner walk."

"Is Oakshott going?"

"Yes, sir. Stafford's asked him, hasn't he, Dig?"

"Yes, sir. I've scouted for Stafford at cricket this term, so he's asked me to-day; and I've done my lines, sir."

"Oh, very well," said Railsford, to whom the temptation of a walk with Grover was even greater than that of a _tete-a-tete_ ride with Arthur Herapath; "but can you manage it?"

"Manage it?" exclaimed they, in tones as if they could scarcely believe they heard aright, "rather, sir."

"Well," said the master, tickled with the evident delight of the pair to be together, "take care how you go. You had better take the Gra.s.sen Road, so as to avoid the hill. Come along, Grover."

So these two artful young "naturalists" had it their own way after all.

"Come on, sharp," said Arthur, "and get out of the ruck."

"Jolly good joke telling us not to go by Maiden Hill," said Digby; "that'll be the best part of the lark."

Luckily a tandem tricycle of the type provided for them is not a machine which requires any very specially delicate riding. Had it been, Arthur and Dig might have been some time getting out of the "ruck," as they politely termed the group of their pedestrian fellow-naturalists. For they were neither of them adepts; besides which, the tricycle being intended for a pair of full-grown men, they had some difficulty in keeping their saddles and working their treadles at one and the same time. They had to part company with the latter when they went down, and catch them flying as they came up; and the result was not always elegant or swift. However, they managed to pa.s.s muster in some sort, as they started off under the eye of their master, and as speedily as possible dodged their vehicle up a side lane, where, free from embarra.s.sing publicity, they were at leisure to adapt their progress to their own convenience.

It wasn't quite as much fun as they had expected. The machine was a heavy one, and laboured a good deal in its going. The treadles, as I have said, were very long; the brake did not always act, and the steering apparatus was stiff. Even the bell, in whose music they had promised themselves some solace, was out of tune; and the road was very like a ploughed field. The gaiety of the boys toned down into sobriety, and the sobriety into silence, and their silence into the ill-humour begotten of perspiration, dust, fatigue, and disappointment. Their high old time was not coming off!