"Come, what's to be done? We can't stay here all night," said Hasluck. "Leveson will be up presently with his stop-watch."
"We oughtn't to have a fellow like Percival in the school," Parfitt commented. "The thing is how to get rid of him. We can't go up to Weevil and ask that he shall be turned out. And we can't do what we'd like to do—kick him out."
"No, we can't very well do that," struck in Newall. "There's only one way."
"What's that?" cried four or five in chorus.
"Make it too warm for the school to hold him."
"No, no; don't do that," came in quick, tense tones from Stanley. "I wouldn't like to be one to drive Percival from Garside."
"Nor I," added Waterman, with unusual emphasis for him.
"You!" retorted Newall contemptuously; "you don't count. Moncrief does. What's your objection, Moncrief?"
"Percival was once my friend," came the sad answer.
"Friend!" was the scornful reply.