At once my attitude of submission was changed at Fillet's clumsy touch into one of hot defiance.
"Indeed, sir," I retorted. "I'm not always so fortunate." I went quickly out and managed to slam the door. Blood up, I muttered:
"Brute! Beast! Swine! Devil!"
§2
Moles White, who was now the house-captain, was occupied two afternoons later in discussing with the bloods of Bramhall the composition of the House Swimming Four for the Inter-house relay races.
"Erasmus House have a splendid Four," he said. "We've only got three so far: there's myself and Cully and Johnson."
"And a precious rotten three too," said Doe.
"Well," grumbled White, "there's nobody else in the House who can swim a stroke; a good many think they can."
"Not so sure," whispered Doe, obscurely. "Come along with me. No, Moles alone." And he dragged White towards the baths.
Within that beloved building I was trying to see how many lengths I could swim. It was rather late, and I had the water to myself. I was doing my sixth length when I saw entering the baths the ungainly carcass of White with the graceful form of Doe hanging affectionately on his arm. The latter was explaining that no one knew how well I could swim, as I had once nearly fainted when extending myself to the utmost and had gone easy ever since. "But Rupert can really swim at ninety miles an hour," he concluded.