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Updated: August 13, 2024
They looked like winning, you know, from the very start, didn't they, Pil?" "Yes, a lot you and your friend Pil know about rowing," sneered Parson. "Know as much as you do!" "Pity if you know such a lot you can't put a boat on the river." "I tell you what we'll do," said Cusack. "Pil and I will row any two of your lot; there now. Funk it, eh?"
I tell you what, though," exclaimed Philpot, struck with the brilliant idea, "there's the pan in the chemistry-room they mix up the sulphur and phosphorus and that sort of thing in. I'll cut and get that. It's just the thing." "All serene," said Cusack; "better give it a rub over in case it blows up, you know."
You remember Antony Cusack, that ran away from me wid seventy-three pounds fifteen shillin's an' nine pence, now betther than nine years ago. Many a curse he had from me for his roguery; but somehow, it seems he only thruv under them. His son Andy called on me yestherday mornin' an' paid me to the last farden, inthrest an' all. Wasn't I in luck?"
Cusack solemnly restored him to his feet and replied, "Rather a rum start, isn't it?" "Well," said Pilbury, examining his shin to see if it had been grazed by the treacherous fender, "I don't see what else there is to do. Any chap can fool about. I'm fagged of fooling about; ain't you?" "I don't know," said Cusack, doubtfully. "It's not such a lark as it used to be, certainly."
Yet the editor, Cusack, is only an amateur in journalism, and a carpenter by trade. His chief fault is one perhaps inevitable in so small a place that he seems a little in the leading of a clique; but his interest in the public weal is genuine and generous. One man's meat is another man's poison: Anglo-Saxons and Germans have been differently brought up.
The fellows there rarely made common cause for any lawful purpose, certainly never for the credit of the school. They were split up into cliques and sets of all sorts, and the rising generation among them were left to grow up pretty much as they liked. On the afternoon in question an entertainment on a small scale was going on in the study jointly occupied by Cusack and Pilbury.
I don't see why, because Tucker and Silk object, the whole house should be done out of its cricket." "No more do I," said Philpot. "They'll kick up a jolly row with us, though," said Morgan. "I don't think so," said Riddell. "At any rate, that's no reason why there shouldn't be a club." "All serene!" said Cusack, warming up to the notion, and quite forgetting "Bouncer."
"There's nothing in that empty jar," said Pilbury, laughing. "Isn't there, though?" said Philpot; "it's full." "You mean to say that jar's full of something," said Cusack. "Look here, don't you try to stuff us up. What's the use of saying it's full when it's empty?" "It's full of gas, I tell you," said Philpot. "Don't you talk till you know."
Jolly rooks' nests in the schoolhouse elms, only Paddy won't let us go after them." "Who is Paddy?" inquires the father. "Oh, the doctor, you know Dr Patrick. You'll see him down in `The Big, and his dame, and " "And what's written up over the door there?" inquires Captain Cusack, pointing up to the coat-of-arms above the great doorway. "Oh, some Latin bosh! I don't know.
"It's pleasure ye call it; then there's no accountin' for tastes, as Dr. Colles said, when he saw me bite Cusack Rooney's thumb off." "Bite a man's thumb off!" said I, in a horror. "Ay," said he with a kind of fiendish animation, "in one chop; I wish you'd see how I scattered the consultation; begad they didn't wait to ax for a fee."
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