'Tried to cover it all up with a conspiracy, did you?' said Stalky.
'Direct insult to all three of us,' said M'Turk. 'A most filthy mind you have, Tulke.'
'I'll shove you fellows outside the door if you go on like this,' said Carson angrily.
'That proves it's a conspiracy,' said Stalky, with the air of a virgin martyr.
'I—I was goin' along the street—I swear I was,' cried Tulke, 'and—and I'm awfully sorry about it—a woman came up and kissed me. I swear I didn't kiss her.'
There was a pause, filled by Stalky's long, liquid whistle of contempt, amazement, and derision.
'On my honour,' gulped the persecuted one. 'Oh, do stop him jawing.'
'Very good,' M'Turk interjected. 'We are compelled, of course, to accept your statement.'
'Confound it!' roared Naughten. 'You aren't head-prefect here, M'Turk.'
'Oh, well,' returned the Irishman, 'you know Tulke better than we do. I am only speaking for ourselves. We accept Tulke's word. But all I can say is that if I'd been collared in a similarly disgustin' situation, and had offered the same explanation Tulke has, I—I wonder what you'd have said. However, it seems on Tulke's word of honour'
'And Tulkus—beg pardon—kiss, of course—Tulkiss is an honourable man,' put in Stalky.
'that the Sixth can't protect 'emselves from bein' kissed when they go for a walk!' cried Beetle, taking up the running with a rush. 'Sweet busi-
