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"Oh, don't be so snaggy, Smithums," I said banteringly; "wait till his poor old wing's all right again, and he shall go a shooting too." That was too much. He made a rush at me, but Barkins flung an arm round his waist, and as they struggled together I dodged to the other side of the table and escaped from the cabin, but popped my head in again.
At the ominous interruption I shuddered involuntarily, and called to Smithsye, "What's up, Smithums?" "Guy's cleaning out the fourth form," he replied. At the same moment George de Coverly passed me, holding his nose, from whence the bright Norman blood streamed redly. To him the plebeian Smithsye laughingly, "Cully! how's his nibs?" I pushed the door of the schoolroom open.
A dingy, swashy, splashy afternoon in October; a school-yard filled with a mob of riotous boys. A lot of us standing outside. Suddenly came a dull, crashing sound from the school-room. At the ominous interruption I shuddered involuntarily, and called to Smithsye: "What's up, Smithums?" "Guy's cleaning out the fourth form," he replied.
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