"Just what I say—what I told Tom—it isn't honest to use cribs, and I've done with them."
"You'll have to ask us about that now, Stewart; we've helped you, and we'll do it again, though you have served us this shabby trick, for it won't do, you know, to have another kick-up with Swain about your wretched construing. This may blow over, but the next won't, and then we shall all be in for it."
"Why don't you give the muff a good pommelling?" said Jackson; "he's done no end of mischief. It's no better than peaching to serve us such a shabby trick. Swain suspects us, I know."
"Look here, Jackson, a fight will just bring the whole thing out, and we shall all be condemned to no end of grind if it does. There'll be no time for the playground or cricket-field or anything else; we shall just be worked like galley-slaves, for the governor will have all the old lessons done over again by way of extra impositions. I know him better than you; but if you'll just keep cool and take my advice we may all escape."
"Now then, boys, listen to the words of the sage," said one of the fellows, elbowing his way to the front.
"Go on, Collins, make us a speech," said another.
"It ain't much of a speech. You must give up cribs now."
"Oh, that's all cram; we can't do it," said Tom.
"We must."
"We shall all look as interesting as Stewart did to-day when we go up. I say, why didn't you put your finger in your mouth, Stewart?" he asked.