Winterham. A close observer might have
seen that two of the envelopes were identical. Arthur slipped one into
his pocket, but tore open the other and read.
"It's from Lewie," he cried. "He wants me down there next week at
Etterick. He says he is all alone and crazy to see old friends again."
"Mine's the same!" said George, after puzzling out Mr. Haystoun's by no
means legible writing. "I say, John, of course we'll go. It's the very
chance we were wishing for."
Then he added with a cheerful face, "I begin to think better of human
nature. Here were we abusing the poor man as a defaulter, and ten
minutes after he heaps coals of fire on our heads. There can't be much
truth in what that newspaper says, or he wouldn't want his friends down
to spoil sport."
"I wonder what he'll be like? Wratislaw saw him in town, but only for a
little, and he notices nothing. He's rather famous now, you know, and
we may expect to find him very dignified and wise. He'll be able to
teach us most things, and we'll have to listen with proper humility."
"I'll give you fifty to one he's nothing of the kind," said George. "He
has his faults like us all, but they don't run in that line. No, no,
Lewie will be modest enough. He may have the pride of Lucifer at heart,
but he would never show it. His fault is just this infernal modesty,
which makes him shirk fighting some blatant ass or publishing his merits
to the world.
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