Naturally Mr. King considered this was an attempt to undermine his authority, and, instead of beginning dictation at once, delivered a lecture on the spirit in which examinations should be approached. As the storm subsided, Beetle fanned it afresh.
'Eh? What? What was that you were saying to MacLagan?'
'I only said I thought the papers ought to have been looked at before they were given out, sir.'
'Hear, hear!' from a back bench.
Mr. King wished to know whether Beetle took it upon himself personally to conduct the traditions of the school. His zeal for knowledge ate up another fifteen minutes, during which the prefects showed unmistakable signs of boredom.
'Oh, it was a giddy time,' said Beetle, afterwards, in dismantled Number Five. 'He gibbered a bit, and I kept him on the gibber, and then he dictated about a half of Dolabella & Co.'
'Good old Dolabella! Friend of mine. Yes?' said Stalky tenderly.
'Then we had to ask him how every other word was spelt, of course, and he gibbered a lotmore. He cursed me and MacLagan (Mac played up like a trump) and Randall, and the "materialised ignorance of the unscholarly middle classes," "lust for mere marks," and all the rest. It was what you might call a final exhibition—a last attack—a giddy par-ergon.'
'But of course he was blind squiffy when he wrote the paper. I hope you explained that?' said Stalky.
