He had taken Beetle aside that day and given him much good advice, not one word of which did Beetle remember when he dashed up to the study, white with excitement, and poured out the wondrous tale. It demanded a great belief. "You begin on a hundred a year?" said McTurk unsympathetically. "Rot!" "And my passage out! It's all settled.

The quarter-comprehended verses lived and ate with him, as the bedropped pages showed. He removed himself from all that world, drifting at large with wondrous Men and Women, till McTurk hammered the pilchard spoon on his head and he snarled. "Beetle! You're oppressed and insulted and bullied by King. Don't you feel it?" "Let me alone! I can write some more poetry about him if I am, I suppose."

"Blind, am I," said Beetle, "and a beast? Shut up, Stalky. I'm goin' to jape a bit with our friend, a' la 'Molly' Fairburn. I think I can see. Can't I see, Sefton?" "The point is well taken," said McTurk, watching the strap at work. "You'd better say that he sees, Seffy." "You do you can! I swear you do!" yelled Sefton, for strong arguments were coercing him. "Aren't my eyes lovely?"

"King'll have to prove his charges up to the giddy hilt." "Too much ticklee, him bust," Beetle quoted from a book of his reading. "Didn't I say he'd go pop if we lat un bide?" "No prep., either, O ye incipient drunkards," said McTurk, "and it's trig night, too. Hullo! Here's our dear friend Foxy. More tortures, Foxibus?"

"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.

Prout could move very silently if he pleased, though that is no merit in a boy's eyes. He had flung open the study-door without knocking another sin and looked at them suspiciously. "Very sorry, indeed, I am to see you frowsting in your studies." "We've been out ever since dinner, sir," said. McTurk wearily.

Winifred's." "An' I don't think much of your aunt. We're nearly out of cartridges, too Artie, dear." Whereupon Stalky rose up to grapple with him, but McTurk sat on Stalky's head, calling him a "pure-minded boy" till peace was declared.

"Don't want you." "Oh, leave him alone. He's been taken worse with a poem," said McTurk. "He'll go burbling down to the Pebbleridge and spit it all up in the study when he comes back." "Then why did he want the tuppence, Turkey? He's gettin' too beastly independent. Hi! There's a bunny. No, it ain't. It's a cat, by Jove! You plug first."

"Cokey must have gone for a walk. Foxy'll have to find him." Prout, as the nearest house-master, was trying to restore order, for rude boys were flicking butter-pats across chaos, and McTurk had turned on the fags' tea-urn, so that many were parboiled and wept with an unfeigned dolor.

"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.