hard—you do, indeed. Of course we don't know how far you abuse your position to prejudice us with Mr. Prout; but when you deliberately stop me to tell me you've been makin' arrangements behind our back—in secret—with Prout—I—I don't know really what we ought to do.'
'That's beastly unfair!' cried Craye.
'It is.' McTurk had adopted a ghastly solemnity that sat well on his long, lean face. 'Hang it all! A prefect's one thing and an usher's another; but you seem to combine 'em. You recommend this—you recommend that! You say how and when we go back to our studies!'
'But—but—we thought you'd like it, Turkey. We did, indeed. You know you'll be ever so much more comfortable there.' Harrison's voice was almost tearful.
McTurk turned away as if to hide his emotions.
'They're broke!' He hunted up Stalky and Beetle in a box-room. 'They're sick! They've been beggin' Heffy to let us go back to Number Five. Poor devils! Poor little devils!'
'It's the olive branch,' was Stalky's comment. 'It's the giddy white flag, by gum! Come to think of it, we have metagrobolised 'em.'
Just after tea that day, Mr. Prout sent for them to say that if they chose to ruin their future by neglecting their work, It was entirely their own affair. He wished them, however, to understand that their presence in the form-rooms could not be tolerated one hour longer. He personally did not care to think of the time he must spend in
