United States or Netherlands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
When the last account had been duly debited, the Bramhallites dispersed to their classes. Throughout that day the incident was a painful recollection for me. I felt I could beat Fillet with cleaner weapons than an exploiting of his affliction: and the more I thought of it, the more I decided that I must go and apologise to him.
The Bramhallites enjoyed my impersonation. "N-now, Moles White, I mean how much b-b-bank do you want? Two shillings? B-bank won't stand it. Take three halfpence take it, Moles, and toddle away." There were roars of laughter, and a grin from White like the smile of a brontosaurus. "N-now, Doe, you don't want any this week you've come to pay in some, I suppose. You oh, damn!"
Chapman, who was busy backing Erasmus when talking to the boys of Erasmus, and Bramhall when questioned by Bramhallites. Fillet, as master of Bramhall; Upton, as master of Erasmus; and Jerry Brisket, as a neutral, were appointed judges. White gathered the Bramhall four into his cabin and arranged with sanguine comments that we should swim in this order: 1. Himself to give us a good start.
And here begins the record of my Waterloo with Fillet. One June morning of the following year all we Bramhallites were assembled in the Preparation Room for our weekly issue of "Bank" or pocket-money; we were awaiting the arrival of Fillet, our house-master, with his jingling cash-box.
The Bramhallites recently organised a very successful punitive raid on the local errand boys, who were getting too uppish, and now he has stopped all "exeats" for the members of Bramhall House. The town is out of bounds. Third in importance is my quarrel with Edgar Doe. It began, I think, with his jealousy of me as Radley's new favourite.
Only the Bramhallites laid nervous half-crowns on the house, and hoped a mighty hope. That excellent fellow, White, displayed his unfortunate features glowing with an expression that was almost beautiful. As the day of the race led me, steadily and without pity, to the time of ordeal, I sickened so from nerves that I could scarcely swallow food; and what I did swallow I couldn't taste.
In flew Lancelot, my opponent; and, with the coming of Johnson, it would be my turn. The Bramhallites, in a burst of new hope, shouted sarcastically: "Go it, Lancelot. Ray's coming. He's just coming." I got the spring in my toes, watched carefully to see Johnson touch the rope beneath me, and then, to the greatest shout of our supporters, dived into the beloved element.
Word Of The Day