The prefect became inarticulate with rage.
'Mustn't yell at the Fifth that way,' said Stalky. 'It's vile bad form.'
'Cough it up, ducky!' M'Turk said calmly.
'I—I want to know what you chaps are doing out of bounds?' This with an important flourish of his ground-ash.
'Ah!' said Stalky. 'Now we're gettin' at it. Why didn't you ask that before?'
'Well, I ask it now. What are you doing?'
'We're admiring you, Tulke,' said Stalky. 'We think you're no end of a fine chap, don't we?'
'We do! We do!' A dog-cart with some girls in it swept round the corner, and Stalky promptly kneeled before Tulke in the attitude of prayer; so Tulke turned a colour.
'I've reason to believe' he began.
'Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!' shouted Beetle, after the manner of Bideford's town-crier, 'Tulke has reason to believe! Three cheers for Tulke!'
They were given. 'It's all our giddy admiration,' said Stalky. 'You know how we love you, Tulke. We love you so much we think you ought to go home and die. You're too good to live, Tulke.'
'Yes,' said M'Turk. 'Do oblige us by dyin'. Think how lovely you'd look stuffed!'
Tulke swept up the road with an unpleasant glare in his eye.
'That means a prefects' meeting—sure pop,' said Stalky. 'Honour of the Sixth involved, and all the rest of it. Tulke 'll write notes all this
