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"'Take not out your 'ounds on a werry windy day," Stalky struck in. "I don't care if you let him off." "Nor me," said Beetle. "Heffy is my only joy Heffy and King." "I 'ad to do it," said the Sergeant, plaintively. "Right, O! Led away by bad companions in the execution of his duty or or words to that effect. You're dismissed with a reprimand, Foxy. We won't tell about you.
They've been beggin' Heffy to let us go back to Number Five. Poor devils! Poor little devils!" "It's the olive branch," was Stalky's comment. "It's the giddy white flag, by gum! Come to think of it, we have metagrobolized 'em." Just after tea that day, Mr. Prout sent for them to say that if they chose to ruin their future by neglecting their work, it was entirely their own affair.
And we show him that we think he's an ass. An' so Heffy don't love us. 'Told me last night after prayers that he was in loco parentis," Beetle grunted. "The deuce he did!" cried Stalky. "That means he's maturin' something unusual dam' mean. Last time he told me that he gave me three hundred lines for dancin' the cachuca in Number Ten dormitory. Loco parentis, by gum!
It wants horses and camels, and many men and arms to make afraid the Bedouins. My father saw that blace with his own eyes, and before he died he wrote a baber teach me how to get there. He told me he got a big biece of gold, enough to make him rich, but had to drob it after a bit, it was so heffy." "How far is the place from here?" "Nine days or ten, I think.
"If we attended the matches an' yelled, 'Well hit, sir, an' stood on one leg an' grinned every time Heffy said, 'So ho, my sons. Is it thus? an' said, 'Yes, sir, an' 'No, sir, an' 'O, sir, an' 'Please, sir, like a lot o' filthy fa-ags, Heffy 'ud think no end of us," said McTurk with a sneer. "Too late to begin that." "It's all right. The Hefflelinga means well. But he is an ass.
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