“Yes, we went up together.”
Maddox got up.
“Right,” he said. “But he’s forgotten to fill my kettle. Would you mind, please?”
That was exactly like Maddox. He always thanked fags who did things for him, and treated them politely. Bags, in consequence, retired with pleased alacrity, and returned.
“Getting on all right, Crabtree?” asked Maddox. “No troubles?”
“Oh no, thanks. I like it all awfully.”
“That’s right. I forget who your fag-master is.”
“Cruikshank.”
“Oh, yes. He’ll look after you. Thanks for filling my kettle.”
Bags went delicately and rather proudly away. Cruikshank never thanked him.