pets,' said M'Turk a little bitterly. 'We aren't even sub-prefects.'
'I've considered that, but, on the other hand, since most bullying is mere thoughtlessness'
'Not one little bit of it, Padre,' said M'Turk. 'Bullies like bullyin'. They mean it. They think it up in lesson and practise it in the quarters.'
'Never mind. If the thing goes up to the prefects it may make another house-row. You've had one already. Don't laugh. Listen to me. I ask you—my own Tenth Legion—to take the thing up quietly. I want little Clewer made fairly clean and decent'
'Blowed if I wash him!' whispered Stalky.
'Decent and self-respecting. As for the other boy, whoever he is, you can use your influence'—a purely secular light flickered in the chaplain's eye—'in any way you please to—to dissuade him. That's all. I'll leave it to you. Good-night, mes enfants.'
•••••
'Well, what are we goin' to do?' Number Five stared at each other.
'Young Clewer would give his eyes for a place to be quiet in. I know that,' said Beetle. 'If we made him a study-fag, eh?'
'No!' said M'Turk firmly. 'He's a dirty little brute, and he'd mess up everything. Besides, we ain't goin' to have any beastly Erickin'. D'you want to walk about with your arm round his neck?'
'He'd clean out the jam-pots, anyhow; an' the burnt-porridge saucepan—it's filthy now.'
