CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE NEW CAPTAIN TURNED WELCHER.
Riddell, who probably felt the sting of the boat-race mishap more sensitively than any boy in Willoughby, was pacing the playground in a dispirited mood a morning or two after, when Dr Patrick suddenly confronted him.
"Ah, Riddell," said the latter, cheerily, "I'm glad I have met you.

I want to have a talk.

Let me see," said he, pulling out his watch, "there's hardly time now, though.

Will you come and have tea with me this evening ?" Riddell turned pale at the bare suggestion, and would probably have invented some wild excuse to get off the dreaded honour had not the doctor continued, "I'm sorry Mrs Patrick and her sister are from home; they take a great interest in you, I can assure you." "Oh, not at all," cried Riddell, whom the bare mention of those ladies' names was sufficient to confuse hopelessly.
"Come at seven o'clock, will you ?" said the doctor, pleasantly, not noticing his head boy's perturbation.
Riddell continued his walk in a state of considerable perplexity.

For some moments he could not get beyond the fact that Mrs Patrick and Miss Stringer were from home, and the relief of that reflection was unspeakable.