Three Boys Part 28

"But I meant to come."

"Well, don't talk, old chap. Look sharp, and dress."

"Yes; but are you going to stay?"

"Of course, to help you."

Max felt disposed to rebel, and thought it objectionable.

Kenneth saw his looks, and spoke out.

"Look here!" he said; "I'll wait for you in the pa.s.sage, and look out of the window."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Max, and the next moment he was alone.

In a few minutes Max's bell rang.

Kenneth went off on tip-toe, and met Grant, who was coming up-stairs looking rather sulky.

Kenneth said something to the butler, who nodded and went down again, while Kenneth went softly back grinning, and stood looking out of the pa.s.sage window, giving one leg a kick of delight as he heard Max's bell ring again.

Then there was a pause, and at last the bell rang once more.

"Ten minutes to nine," said Kenneth to himself, with a look of suppressed glee.

Then Max's door opened.

"Ready?" cried Kenneth.

"No. I'm very sorry, but I've rung three times, and no one has come."

"P'r'aps Grant is busy with father. What do you want--hot water?"

"No," said Max. "The fact is, I got two pairs of trousers very wet yesterday, and I sent them down to be dried. They haven't been brought up."

"Oh, is that all?" cried Kenneth. "I'll run and fetch them."

"Oh, thank you!"

Kenneth ran off, and came back at the end of a few minutes, but without the trousers.

"Thank you," said Max hastily. "I'm ashamed to have let--Why, you haven't got them!"

"No," said Kenneth. "Are you sure you sent them down? Grant says he hasn't seen them."

"I gave them to one of the maids."

"It's very strange. No one has seen them. Never mind. Jump into another pair. The guv'nor will be furious if you are late."

"But I've lost the key of my portmanteau, and I can't put on black this morning."

"Oh no, that would never do!" cried Kenneth. "Pop on your knickerbockers."

"I haven't any."

"No knicks! Oh, I say! what will you do? That blessed gong will be going directly."

"Yes. Shall I put on my dress things?"

"No, no, no! You'd make the pater laugh horribly. Here, I tell you what! you and I are about the same size--shall I lend you some of my duds?"

"Oh, if you would!" cried Max.

"All right!"

Kenneth dashed off to his own room, and came back in a minute.

"Here you are!" he cried. "Slip on those socks."

"But I've got socks."

"But they won't do. On with these."

"But--"

"On with them. The gong will go directly."

Horribly scared at the idea of keeping The Mackhai waiting again, Max obeyed, hardly knowing what he did, and then he made a protest as Kenneth held out a garment for him to put on next.

"Oh," he exclaimed, "I couldn't put on that!"

"But you must. You haven't a moment to spare; and it's my best one."

Max shrank, and then yielded, for all at once boom! boom! boom! sounded the gong; and, half frantic with haste and his want of moral courage, the poor boy submitted to the domination of his tormentor, with the result that, five minutes after the gong had ceased, and still hesitating as to whether he had not better stay away, Max followed Kenneth down-stairs, that young gentleman having preceded him two minutes.

"The Mackhai is beginning breakfast, sir," said Grant, as Max came down; and he drew back with a tray full of hot viands, his sour, stony face relaxing into a grin as the shrinking figure of the young guest pa.s.sed him.

"Good morning, Mr Blande!" said The Mackhai sternly; and then his severe face underwent a change. He was about to burst out laughing, but he bit his lip, frowned, and then in a changed tone of voice said, "Thank you for the compliment, Mr Blande."

"It--it was not meant for a compliment, sir," faltered Max.

"Indeed! I thought you had donned our tartan out of compliment to your host."

"It is an accident, sir," stammered Max, with his face scarlet. "I have lost my clothes, and Kenneth has been kind enough to lend me a suit."

"Oh, I see!" said The Mackhai, as the dogs, which for a treat had been admitted, came sniffing round the shivering lad, who looked pitiably thin and miserable in the kilt, with the sporran hanging down far lower than it should.

"It is a very comfortable dress," said The Mackhai, recovering himself, though, to Kenneth's delight and Max's misery, he could not repress a smile. "There, pray, sit down, the breakfast is growing cold."