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Updated: May 18, 2025
Without waiting for Lovell to answer, the other boys, each in turn, said, "I, sir," or "Me, sir." John came last. "Anybody else, Lovell?" A discreet master would not have asked this question, but Dirty Dick was the last man to waive an advantage. Now, the Caterpillar had quietly left No. 15, as soon as Rutford entered it.
"They are cutting 'em in town a trifle tighter about the lower leg, but loose above. You understand?" "Perfectly, Mr. Egerton," replied the obsequious snip. "What we call the 'tighto-looso' style, sir." "I don't think they call it that in Savile Row," said the Caterpillar; "but be careful." The tailor was assured that he would receive an order properly signed by Mr. Rutford.
Dooley." When John returned to the Hill at the beginning of the winter term the great change had taken place. Rutford had assumed the duties of Professor of Greek at a Scotch University; Warde was in possession of the Manor; Scaife and Desmond and John but not the Caterpillar had got their remove. They were Fifth Form boys and in tails!
"This is Scaife, Duchess," he said in his thick, rasping tones. "Scaife and Verney, let me present you to the Duchess of Trent." He mouthed the illustrious name, as if it were a large and ripe greengage. The duchess advanced, smiling graciously. "These" Rutford named the other boys "are Egerton, Lovell, and er Duff."
A stroke of genius this for the siphons were still on the table and the syrups, and the débris of cakes and meringues. Rutford would be sure to examine the scene of the catastrophe; and the whisky bottle was carefully hidden. "We were having a spread, sir, and we asked Scaife to join us. His play to-day made him one of us." The other boys gazed admiringly at Lovell. What a cool, knowing hand!
Her hair was reddish, not red call it a warm chestnut; and she had a dimple. After the introductions, mother and daughter left the hall. Warde stood up, inviting the House to sit down. Warde was about half the width of the late Rutford, but somehow he seemed to take up more room. He had spent the summer holidays in Switzerland, climbing terrific peaks.
He had hardly finished speaking, when Scaife opened his eyes for the second time. By a curious coincidence, the doctor used the words of the house-master. "Well, sir, how do you feel?" And then Scaife answered, in the same dazed fashion as before "I feel as if I was jolly well screwed, sir." Rutford nodded portentously.
Therefore, when Rutford appeared, slightly flushed of countenance and visibly annoyed, the School emphasized their displeasure by derisive cheers. Rutford, ever tactless where boys were concerned, was unwise enough to make a speech from the steps condemning, in his usual bombastic style, a demonstration which he ought to have known he was quite powerless to punish or to prevent.
In due time he accepted a Small House, so small that its autocrat's incapacity as an administrator escaped notice. Rutford waited patiently for a big morsel. He wrote a couple of text-books; he married a wife with money and influence; he entertained handsomely.
He reached his room to find three other boys busily engaged in abusing their house-master. They took no notice of John, who leaned against the wall. "His lordship is in the drawing-room with Mr. Rutford." A freckle-faced, red-headed youth, with a big elastic mouth had imitated Dumbleton admirably. "What a snob Dick is!" drawled a very tall, very thin, aristocratic-looking boy.
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