"Let's talk as we used to."
I was relieved from the necessity of finding some opening remark by the bursting into the room of "Molés" White.
If you look up the Latin word "Molés" in the dictionary, you will find that it means "a huge, shapeless mass"; and all of us had been very quick to see that this was an excellent description of our junior house-prefect, White. Moles White was as enormous and ugly in his dimensions as he was genial and simple in face. You saw at a glance that he possessed all the traditional kindliness and generosity of the giant. As he crashed into Doe's study, he was swinging some books on the end of a strap.
"Found you, Doe," said he. "Look here, Bramhall's got to make the best house-team it can, which means you must give up slacking at cricket. You'll play at the nets this evening."
"Heavens! Ray," Doe murmured in mock dismay, as he stared out of eyes that sparkled with impudence at White's huge frame, "what on earth is this coming in?"
White smiled meaningly.
"Don't be cheeky now, Doe," he suggested. "No lip, please."
Doe's reply was a laugh, and the question addressed to me:
"I say, Ray, do you think it's an Iguanodon?"
"Well," said White, striding forward and beginning to swing his books ominously, "if you're asking for trouble, you shall have it."