"I wouldn't worry, youngster, if I were you. It's been a poor show last
term, but you'll pull yourself together right enough. Take my advice,
and lie low a bit, that's the best thing for your complaint."
"Why," said I, "that's just exactly what Tempest said to me."
"There you are again," broke in Dicky, cutting himself a hunch of cake.
Presently Redwood began to "draw" me on the subject of Tempest, and
looked rather blank when I told him of the dismal circumstances in which
the term had closed at Sharpe's. However, he did not favour Dicky and
me with much comment on the matter, and finally got us to help him
sharpen his skates and talk about other things.
I went to bed that night at Dicky's more easy and hopeful than I had
been for weeks, and felt half-impatient for term to begin again, so that
I might put into practice the new and trebly-patent specific of lying
low.