looked at the King—and died of it! Hoosh! Yai! Yaow! Maiow! Ftzz!' were some of cries that followed.
Again Richards appeared.
'She've been'—he checked himself suddenly—'dead a long taime.'
The school roared.
'Well, come on out for a walk,' said Stalky in well-chosen pause. 'It's all very disgusting and I do hope that the Lazar-house won't do it again.'
'Do what?' a King's boy cried furiously.
'Kill a poor innocent cat every time you want to get off washing. It's awfully hard to distinguish between you as it is. I prefer the cat, I must say. She isn't quite so whiff. What are you goin' to do, Beetle?'
'Je vais gloater. Je vais gloater tout le blessed afternoon. Jamais j'ai gloaté comme je gloaterai aujord'hui. Nous bunkerons aux bunkers.'
And it seemed good to them so to do.
•••••
Down in the basement, where the gas flickers and the boots stand in racks, Richards, amid his blacking-brushes, held forth to Oke of the Common-room, Gumbly of the dining-halls, and fair Lena of the laundry.
'Yiss. Her were in a shockin' staate an' condition. Her nigh made me sick, I tal 'ee. But I rowted un out, and I rowted un out, an' I made shipshape, though her smelt like to bilges.'
'Her died mousin', I rackon, poor thing,' said Lena.
'Then her moused different to any made cat o'
