“But I’m sick of being knocked about.”
“So am I.”
“Then don’t let’s have it. The time isn’t anything like ripe, I know, and I don’t believe a bit in being able to fight, but—”
“But what?” I said, after a pause.
“I don’t know. I hate fighting.”
“So do I, Tom,” I said dismally. “I wish they’d leave us alone.”
“I wish they only would.”
“But why does Burr major want us to go into the loft? Why couldn’t he come here?”
“Because he thinks he can lick us quietly up there, with only a few of his chaps with him, and two to be scouts. Oh dear me, school ain’t nice!”
“Come on, Tom,” I said, “and let’s get it over.”