'What would happen, Beetle?'
'Oh, the Coll. 'ud go to pieces in a year, sir. There's no doubt o' that.'
'How d'you know?' The Reverend John was smiling.
'We've been here nearly six years now. There are precious few things about the Coll. we don't know,' Stalky replied. 'Why, even you came the term after I did, sir. I remember your asking our names in form your first lesson. Mr. King, Mr. Prout, and the Head, of course, are the only masters senior to us—in that way.'
'Yes, we've changed a good deal—in Common-room.'
'Huh!' said Beetle, with a grunt. 'They came here, an' they went away to get married. Jolly good riddance, too!'
'Doesn't our Beetle hold with matrimony?'
'No, Padre; don't make fun of me. I've met chaps in the holidays who've got married house-masters. It's perfectly awful! They have babies and teething and measles and all that sort of thing right bung in the school; and the masters' wives give tea-parties—tea-parties, Padre!—and ask the chaps to breakfast.'
'That don't matter so much,' said Stalky. 'But the house-masters let their houses alone, and they leave everything to the prefects. Why, in one school, a chap told me, there were big baize doors and a passage about a mile long between the house and the master's house. They could do just what they pleased.'
'Satan rebuking sin with a vengeance.'
