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"I've known boys five years his senior throw ink-balls, Beetle. To such an one have I given two hundred lines not so long ago. And now I come to think of it, were those lines ever shown up?" "Were they, Turkey? said Beetle unblushingly. "Don't you think Clewer looks a little cleaner, Padre?" Stalky interrupted. "We're no end of moral reformers," said McTurk.

You've had one already. Don't laugh. Listen to me. I ask you my own Tenth Legion to take the thing up quietly. I want little Clewer made to look fairly clean and decent " "Blowed if I wash him!" whispered Stalky. "Decent and self-respecting.

When a little chap is whimpering in a corner and wears his clothes like rags, and never does any work, and is notoriously the dirtiest little 'corridor-caution' in the Coll., something's wrong somewhere." "That's Clewer," said McTurk under his breath. "Yes, Clewer. He comes to me for his French. It's his first term, and he's almost as complete a wreck as you were, Beetle.

I say, Sefton, what did you bully Clewer for?" "Leave me alone! Oh, you infernal bullies, leave me alone! Haven't I had enough?" "He says we must leave him alone," said McTurk. "He says we are bullies, an' we haven't even begun yet," said Beetle. "You're ungrateful, Seffy. Golly! You do look an atrocity and a half!" "He says he has had enough," said Stalky. "He errs!"

Thrice he crossed the empty form-room, with compressed lips and expanded nostrils, swaying to the quick-step. Then he halted before the dumb Beetle and softly knuckled his bead, Beetle bowing to the strokes. McTurk nursed one knee and rocked to and fro. They could hear Clewer howling as though his heart would break. "Beetle is the sacrifice," Stalky said at last, "I'm sorry for you, Beetle.

"He says he doesn't know anything about bullyin'. Haven't we taught you a lot?" "Yes yes!" "He says we've taught him a lot. Aren't you grateful?" "Yes!" "He says he is grateful. Put him away. Oh, I forgot! I say, Campbell, what did you bully Clewer for?" He wept anew; his nerves being raw. "Because I was a bully. I suppose that's what you want me to say?" "He says he is a bully. Right he is.

At the twentieth repetition no boy can stand the torture of one unvarying query, which is the essence of bullying came confession. "We did, confound you!" "Then you'll be knuckled;" and knuckled they were, according to ancient experience. Head-knuckling is no trifle; "Molly" Fairburn of the old days could not have done better. "Did you give Clewer Brush-drill?"

Whoever it is he's kept quiet or we'd have seen him," said Stalky. "We'll walk round and sniff about till we're sure." They drew the house form-rooms, accounting for every junior and senior against whom they had suspicions; investigated, at Beetle's suggestion, the lavatories and box-rooms, but without result. Everybody seemed to be present save Clewer.

"My Aunt!" said Campbell, appalled, from his corner, and turned white. "Put him away," said Stalky. "Bring on Campbell. Now this is bullyin'. Oh, I forgot! I say, Campbell, what did you bully Clewer for? Take out his gag and let him answer." "I I don't know. Oh, let me off! I swear I'll make it pax. Don't 'rock' me!" "'The bleatin' of the kid excites the tiger. He says he don't know.

The method and silence of the attacks was breaking their nerves. Between each new torture came the pitiless, dazing rain of questions, and when they did not answer to the point, Isabella-colored handkerchiefs were thrust into their mouths. "Now are those all the things you did to Clewer? Take out the gag, Turkey, and let 'em answer." "Yes, I swear that was all.