"Hallo!" he remarked. "You've been a long time getting your journey-money. Did the old Man try to cut you down?"
"No.... He says I'm to be a prefect next term."
"Oh! Congratters!" said Blake awkwardly.
"Thanks. Has he made you one too?" asked Jackson.
"Oh. What rot!"
Presently Jackson's oldest friend, after an unhappy silence, rose and went out. He had gone to join the proletariat round the Hall fire. The worst of getting up in the world is that you have to leave so many old comrades behind you. And worse still, the comrades frequently persist in believing that you are glad to do so.
Such is the cloak of Authority, as it feels to a thoughtful and sensitive boy who assumes it for the first time.
Of course there are others. Hulkins, for instance. In his eyes the prefectorial system was created for his express convenience and glorification. He opens his study door and bawls: