"Among the Champion Pills, sir," he announced gravely.
"The Grampian Hills?" said Mr. Cayley, greatly interested. He nodded his head. "That may be so. Geologically speaking, some of these hills were volcanoes yesterday."
"There was nothing about it in the Daily Mail this morning," objected a voice from the back benches.
"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Cayley, looking up.
"It sounds like a fairy tale, sir," amended the speaker.
"And so it is!" exclaimed Mr. Cayley, the geologist in him aroused at last. "The whole history of Nature is a fairy tale. Cast your minds back for a thousand centuries." ...
The form accepted this invitation to the extent of dismissing the passage of unprepared translation from their thoughts for ever, and settling down with a grateful sigh, began to search their pockets for fresh provender. The seraph-like Benton slipped back into his seat. His mission was accomplished. The rest of the hour was provided for.
Three times in the past five years Mr. Cayley's colleagues had offered to present him with a testimonial. He could never understand why.
Mr. Bull was a young master, and an international football-player. Being one of the few members of the staff at Eaglescliffe who did not possess a first-class degree, he had been entrusted with the care of the most difficult form in the school—the small boys, usually known as The Nippers.