“Here, what a chap you are! I didn’t mean any harm. But I say, Slegge, old chap, you did scare them off. I wish the Principal wouldn’t have any more new boys. I say, though, you don’t mean to get the wickets pitched this morning, do you?”
“Of course I do,” cried Slegge. “Do you want to go idling and staring over the wall and look at the show?”
“Well, I—I—”
“There, that will do,” cried Slegge. “I know. Just as if there weren’t monkeys enough in the collection without you!”
At this would-be witticism on the part of the tyrant of the school there was a fresh roar of laughter, which made the unfortunate against whom it was directed writhe with annoyance, and hurry off to conciliate his schoolfellow by getting the wickets pitched.
Chapter Two.
Declaration of War.
Meanwhile the two lads, who had retired from the field, strolled off together across the playground down to the pleasant lawn-like level which the Doctor, an old lover of the Surrey game, took a pride in having well kept for the benefit of his pupils, giving them a fair amount of privilege for this way of keeping themselves in health. But to quote his words in one of his social lectures, he said: