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"Come on, Tulke, cried Naughten, from the prefects' brake. "Yes, we're comin'. Shove up and make room, you Collegers. You've all got to be back next term, with your 'Yes, sir, and 'Oh, sir, an' 'No sir' an' 'Please sir'; but before we say good-by we're going to tell you a little story. Kick that hat-box under the seat, an' don't crowd your Uncle Stalky."

"Now they'll tell the whole school and Beetle'll make up a lot of beastly rhymes and nick-names." "But, hang it, she kissed me!" Outside of his work, Tulke's mind moved slowly. "I'm not thinking of you. I'm thinking of us. I'll go up to their study and see if I can make 'em keep quiet!" "Tulke's awf'ly cut up about this business," Naughten began, ingratiatingly, when he found Beetle.

"You've made a pretty average ghastly mess of it, Tulke." "Why why didn't you lick that young devil Beetle before he began jawing?" Tulke wailed. "I knew there'd be a row," said a prefect of Prout's house. "But you would insist on the meeting, Tulke." "Yes, and a fat lot of good it's done us," said Naughten. "They come in here and jaw our heads off when we ought to be jawin' them.

Beetle talks to us as if we were a lot of blackguards and and all that. And when they've hung us up to dry, they go out and slam the door like a house-master. All your fault, Tulke." "But I didn't kiss her." "You ass! If you'd said you had and stuck to it, it would have been ten times better than what you did," Naughten retorted.

So, carefully modelling his rhetoric on King, Beetle followed up the attack, surpassing and surprising himself, "It it isn't so much the cynical immorality of the biznai, as the blatant indecency of it, that's so awful. As far as we can see, it's impossible for us to go into Bideford without runnin' up against some prefect's unwholesome amours. There's nothing to snigger over, Naughten.

"Not the least need, my dear chap, I assure you," said Naughten hastily. "I'll take any message you care to send." But the chance of supplying the missing adjective was too tempting. So Naughten returned to that still undissolved meeting, Beetle, white, icy, and aloof, at his heels.

"Well, you chaps deserve a lickin'," cried one Naughten incautiously. Then was Beetle filled with a noble inspiration. "For interferin' with Tulke's amours, eh?" Tulke turned a rich sloe color. "Oh, no, you don't!" Beetle went on. "You've had your innings. We've been sent up for cursing and swearing at you, and we're goin' to be let off with a warning! Are we? Now then, you're going to catch it."

"We are compelled, of course, to accept your statement." "Confound it!" roared Naughten. "You aren't head-prefect here, McTurk." "Oh, well," returned the Irishman, "you know Tulke better than we do. I am only speaking for ourselves. We accept Tulke's word.