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Updated: June 2, 2025
But somehow they are not much afraid of Bramble, whereat Bramble is particularly furious, and summons Padger to a "meeting" about once a week in his study, there to take counsel against these irreverent Buttercups and Daisies.
I'll see they won't use me as a warming-pan, won't you, Padger? The brutes! I'll bite their horrid cold feet if they stick them against me, that's what I'll do." "I'll keep a pin to stick into them," said another. "I'll get some leeches and put on their legs," shouted another.
He, with his friend Padger, and a few other irreconcilables, were just returning from a rat-catching expedition, and the sight of the Fifth Form heroes in boating costume filled them with joy. "Hullo my eye hurrah!" shouted Bramble, taking in the situation in a moment. "There they go! I hope they get drowned; don't you, Padger?" Padger was understood to assent to this benevolent aspiration.
As soon as the doors were open, Bramble, who had meanwhile collected a large muster of adherents, rushed in, and, turning out all the Guinea-pigs, had himself elected treasurer, and Padger honorary secretary.
They had come out into the passage to cheer, but they went away silently and sadly, feeling that their very occupation was departed. Bramble, always quick to see a chance, took advantage as usual of this panic. "Hullo, I say, Guinea-pigs, you can shut up shop now, you know. We're going to let off Greenfield senior this time, ain't we, Padger? Jolly fellow, Greenfield senior." This was abominable!
This most unexpected turn to the conversation startled Stephen. He turned quite pale as he replied, "I did, there! But I didn't go in at the public door. And you've been sneaking!" "No, I haven't. Padger told me, didn't you, Padger? Padger peeped through the door, and saw you. Oh, my eye! won't I kick-up a shine about it! I'll let out on you, see if I don't. Bah, public-house boy! potboy, yah!"
"Long live the king." "Ah, here's one. What's become of the chair?" Next moment, amid great applause, the gas was re-lit, and the thrilling tragedy proceeded. It went on all right till the ghost enters, and here another calamity occurred. Padger was acting ghost, dressed up in a long sheet, and with flour on his face.
As soon as ever, by superhuman exertions, Bramble and a few others of the "potted" ones had struggled through their Euclid, and served their term of detention, an evening was fixed upon for the great event to come off. Immediately a question arose. Should the public be admitted? "Rather!" exclaimed Bramble, the treasurer, "five bob each." "Masters half price," suggested Padger.
"Well, you said so yourself," put in Bramble, a little mildly, for since Stephen's exploit yesterday that young hero had advanced a good deal in the respect of his fellows. "But, I say, why don't you stick some lotion or something on it? It'll never get right if you don't, will it, Padger?"
"Bravo, Guinea-pigs!" shouts one small voice up somewhere near the ceiling, whereat there is a mighty laugh and cheer, and Bramble turns crimson in the face, and tells his grandmother gloomily, "That fellow Paul is a beast!" But the youth's face brightens when the next name is called: "Third arithmetic Padger."
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