"Hear 'em singing, or groaning, which is it?" said Masters, with huge disdain. "We'll make 'em sing, I can tell you fellows! Hullo, Tompkins, where's those colours?"
His grammar was not always too correct, but his meaning was at any rate evident. He pounced on Tompkins, tore his coat open and exposed his tie.
"A beastly red thing!" he shouted, seizing it and pulling at it till half the unfortunate Tompkins' shirt was dragged about his neck. "Here, what's the meaning of this? Treachery, eh?"
He eyed the delinquent fiercely. The wearing of this red tie was not only an insult to Ranleigh on such a day, but it was clear disobedience of orders. Had he not himself, the great Masters, commanded all the small boys of One South to don the School colours?
"Just you hop right off to the school, kid," he commanded severely. "If you ain't back here in double quick time with that tie, why—well, you'll see. Just fancy a Ranleigh fellow sporting a red tie on a day like this! Here, hook it, my beauty."
"But—but," expostulated the unhappy Tompkins—"but, Masters, I say——"
"Don't you say it then," declared that young gentleman fiercely. "Just hook it, quick."
"But it's no good going to the school," said Tompkins, determined to have a hearing. "You see——"
"I don't. Now, look here," began Masters, getting red in the face, for it began to look as if Tompkins would defy him, and already Bert was grinning that nasty satirical grin of his which angered other members of the Old Firm besides Masters. "I'm not going to stand your gas. You——"
"I tell you it's no good," cried his victim stubbornly. "What's the good of going to the school for a thing that isn't there?"