"Heard the latest about that new bloke?" inquired Master Mumford of Pip one evening, under cover of the continuous hum of conversation which always characterised "prep" in the Hivite house.
"What new bloke?"
"Linklater. Seen him?"
Yes, Pip had seen him at nets that day, and had noticed that he was a jolly neat bat.
"Notice his boots?" pursued Mumford.
"Can't say I did."
"Well, they were white!"
Master Mumford fairly overflowed with happy laughter at the richness of the jest. The wearing of white buckskin boots was one of the privileges of the First Eleven, and Linklater had run counter to custom and habit again.
"Oh," said Pip, "I suppose he didn't know."
This childishly lenient view of the case did not appeal to Mumford, who, with all the small-minded man's respect for the letter of the law, was thirsting to punish the evildoer.