"I'm jolly glad we got kicked out of Dangerfield, ain't you ?" "Middling," said I; "the fact is, Dicky, you may as well know it, but I'm rather sick of this place." "Hullo!" said he, looking at me, "why, I thought you were having such a high old time." "I--I've come a bit of a howler, Dicky;" here I gulped ominously, much to Dicky's concern.

"I've fooled things rather, you know." I was in for my confession now, and gave the penitent horse his head.

"I'm jolly miserable, Dicky, that's all about it, and wish I was dead, don't you know, and that sort of thing." "What's up, old chappie ?" said Dicky, taking my arm, and evidently in a fright lest I should compromise myself by breaking down on the spot.
"Come down by the willows; it's rather muddy, but it's quieter." So we ploughed through the mud under the willows, and I let out on Dicky all that was in my heart.

I'm sure he thought it a lot of bosh, but he was too kind to say so, and hung on to my arm, and never once contradicted me when I called myself a fool.
"You have rotted it a bit," remarked he, when the story was complete.
"Never mind, old chap, it can't be helped.

You'll worry through all right." This was true comfort.