II.
Squirming, Frederick, the gardener's boy, advanced to the bedside.
Mr. Marrapit sternly regarded him: “Recite your misdeeds.”
“I've done me jobs, sir.”
“Prostrated, I cannot check your testimony. One awful eye above alone can tell. Upon your knees this night search stringently your heart. Bend.”
Frederick inclined his neck until his forehead was upon the coverlet. Mr. Marrapit scanned the neck.
“Behind the ears are stale traces. Cleanse abundantly. To your bed.”
Without the door Frederick encountered Mr. Fletcher. “You let me catch you reading abed to-night,” Mr. Fletcher warned him.
“Cleanse yer blarsted ear-'oles,” breathed Frederick, pushing past.