“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
longed. Nasty place out there. My! You ’ve got a grip on you! My back ’s as lame as after a house match at ‘The Hill.’”
“Did you go to Harrow?” asked Cloud. “So did I—I was in Sandford’s.”
“Well, I was in Bailey’s. We licked you three years running when I was in the house. Not because I was in it, of course. By the way, you ’re not contemplating doing anything like that again, are you? You see I could n’t guarantee that it would come exactly the same way.”
Cloud smiled a wan smile.
“I give you my word," he answered simply, “as a fellow Harrorian, not to make a fool of myself again.”
He held out his hand again. Micky took it, and looked him in the eye.
“Honor bright?” he asked.
“Honor bright!” replied Cloud.
“Thanks,” said Micky. “By the way, you might drop up to the wireless house any time you feel a bit off your peck. I ’m there most of the time, especially evenings. I ought to tell you, right now, that 1 inadvertently overheard your little talk last evening with Mrs.116
