“Well, tell me about one—if it’s only one, Clifford.”
He thought a moment.
“I’m afraid you’ll go writing to the master, as you call it, and get me expelled for telling tales, or something.”
“Oh, my darling, of course I won’t! Poor boy! tell me about this one.”
“There’s one chap who’s fairly decent, a chap called Pickering.”
“To think,” she murmured to herself, stroking her transformation, and shaking her head, “to think there should be only one boy fairly decent in all that enormous school!”
“Oh, well! he’s simply frightfully decent, as a matter of fact. Pickering fairly takes it. He’s top-hole. There’s nothing he can’t do.”
“What does he do, darling?”
“Oh, I can’t exactly explain. He’s a bit of all right. It’s frightfully smart to be seen with him.”
Lady Kellynch looked surprised at this remark.