“Why, Eardley! Eardley! there is Grey walking round playing fields with Mallett!” halloed a sawney who was killing the half-holiday by looking out of the window.
“The devil! I say, Matthews, whose flute is that? It is a devilish handsome one!”
“It’s Grey’s! I clean it for him,” squeaked a little boy. “He gives me sixpence a week!”
“Oh, you sneak!” said one.
“Cut him over!”
“Roast him!” cried a third.
“To whom are you going to take the flute?” asked a fourth.
“To Mallett,” squeaked the little fellow. “Grey lends his flute to Mallett every day.”
“Grey lends his flute to Mallett! The deuce he does! So Grey and Mallett are going to crony!”
A wild exclamation burst forth from the little party; and away each of them ran, to spread in all directions the astounding intelligence.