“You might let me see!” gasped Chips, at Crabtree’s elbow.
“Why should I?” demanded that worthy, with all the outraged dignity of his very decided seniority.
Chips knew too well that he had taken a liberty which the actual circumstances alone could excuse; but nobody else was listening yet, so he whispered in Crabtree’s ear, “Because I wrote it!”
“You what?” cried Crabtree, irritably.
“I wrote that thing.”
“What thing?”
Everybody was listening now.
“That thing you’re reading about 'Summer-Term,’” said Chips shamefacedly.
“What a lie!” cried half the fellows in the hall.
“It isn’t. I swear I did.”