"Hallo, new kid, what's your name?"
"Robert Stonehouse."
"Don't be so abrupt, my boy,"—a delighted titter from the small fry—"say 'sir' when you answer me."
"I shan't."
The little colourless eyes widened in sheer incredulity. For a moment the role of humorist was forgotten.
"Look here—no cheek, or I'll smack your head."
"He hasn't been properly brought up," one of the spotty youth's companions remarked, not ill-naturedly. "Can't expect him to have manners. He never had a father or a mother, poor darling——"
"Then where did he come from?"
"God made him."
"He told old Jaegers he'd never even heard of God."