'And this was the house.' Stalky changed from a pecking, fluttering voice to tragic earnestness. 'This was the—the—open cesspit that dared to call us "stinkers." And now—and now, it tries to shelter itself behind a dead rat. You annoy me, Rattray. You disgust me! You irritate me unspeakably! Thank Heaven, I am a man of equable temper'
('This is to your address, Macrea,' said Prout.
'I fear so, I fear so.')
'Or I should scarcely be able to contain myself before your mocking visage.'
'Cave!' in an undertone. Beetle had spied King sailing down the corridor.
'And what may you be doing here, my little friends?' the house-master began.'I had a fleeting notion—correct me if I am wrong (the listeners with one accord choked)—that if I found you outside my house I should visit you with dire pains and penalties.'
'We were just goin' for a walk, sir,' said Beetle.
'And you stopped to speak to Rattray en route?'
'Yes, sir. We've been throwing golf-balls,' said Rattray, coming out of the study.
('Old Rat is more of a diplomat than I thought. So far he is strictly within the truth,' said little Hartopp. 'Observe the ethics of it, Prout.')
'Oh, you were sporting with them, were you? I must say I do not envy you your choice of associates. I fancy they might have been engaged in some of the prurient discourse with which they
