explanations, gibbered awhile and hurled them forth. So Beetle finished yet another poem at peace in the study.
'They're usin' carbolic now. Malpas told me,' said Stalky. 'King thinks it's the drains.'
'She'll need a lot o' carbolic,' said M'Turk. 'No harm tryin', I suppose. It keeps King out of mischief.'
'I swear I thought he was goin' to kill me when I sniffed just now. He didn't mind Burton major sniffin' at me the other day, though. He never stopped Alexander howlin' "Stinker!" into our form-room before—before we doctored 'em. He just grinned,' said Stalky. 'What was he frothing over you for, Beetle?'
'Aha! That was my subtle jape. I had him on toast. You know he always jaws about the learned Lipsius.'
'"Who at the age of four—"that chap?' said M'Turk.
'Yes. Whenever he hears I've written a poem. Well, just as I was sittin' down, I whispered, "How is our learned Lipsius?" to Burton major. Old Butt grinned like an owl. He didn't know what I was drivin' at; but King jolly well did. That was really why he hove us out. Ain't you grateful? Now shut up. I'm goin' to write the "Ballad of the Learned Lipsius."'
'Keep clear of anything coarse, then,' said Stalky. 'I shouldn't like to be coarse on this happy occasion.'
'Not for wo-orlds. What rhymes to "stenches," some one?'
