indignation. He glared "—oh, naughty Eric! Let's get to where he goes in for drink.'
'Hold on half a shake. Here's another sample. "The Sixth," he says, "is the palladium of all public schools." But this lot'—Stalky rapped the gilded book—'can't prevent fellows drinkin' and stealin', an' lettin' fags out of window at night, an'—an' doin' what they please. Golly, what we've missed—not goin' to St. Winifred's! . . .'
'I'm sorry to see any boys of my house taking so little interest in their matches.'
Mr. Prout could move very silently if he pleased, though that is no merit in a boy's eyes. He had flung open the study-door without knocking—another sin—and looked at them suspiciously. 'Very sorry, indeed, I am to see you frowsting in your studies.'
'We've been out ever since dinner, sir,' said M'Turk wearily. One house-match is just like another, and their 'ploy' of that week happened to be rabbit-shooting with saloon-pistols.
'I can't see a ball when it's coming, sir,' said Beetle. 'I've had my gig-lamps smashed at the Nets till I got excused. I wasn't any good even as a fag, then, sir.'
'Tuck is probably your form. Tuck and brewing. Why can't you three take any interest in the honour of your house?'
They had heard that phrase till they were wearied. The 'honour of the house' was Prout's weak point, and they knew well how to flick him on the raw.
'If you order us to go down, sir, of course we'll
