Flinging prefectorial dignity to the winds, they rushed down to the studies.
"Betteridge, you've got to let us draw upon the House funds for a good cause."
They poured out the idea. Betteridge was enthusiastic. For six shillings they bought forty pairs of coloured laces.
At twelve-thirty next morning a huge crowd lined up under the lindens to watch the School House parade. Rumour had flown round.
It was a noble spectacle. Each section wore a different coloured shoe-lace. Gordon's wore pale blue, Rudd's pink, Foster's green, and Collin's orange. Everyone was shaking with laughter. Betteridge formed the platoon up in line facing the School House dormitories; sooner or later Rogers would pass by on his way from the common room. At last he was sighted turning the corner of the Chief's drive. Half the school had assembled by the gates.
"Private Morgan," shouted Betteridge, "fall out and do up your shoe-lace.
"Remainder—present ARMS!"
Rogers was far too self-satisfied and certain of his own importance to see that the demonstration was meant for him. But the school saw it, and so did certain members of the staff, who made everything quite clear to Rogers that afternoon. Finally, the Chief learnt of the affair. Betteridge got a lecture on military discipline and on prefectorial dignity. But a good many of the younger masters thoroughly enjoyed the rag, and the story of the coloured shoe-laces is still recounted in common room, when Rogers has made himself unusually tedious about his own virtues and his cleverness in scoring off his enemies.