“It was worth it,” Dick Four pronounced on review of the profit-and-loss account with Number Five in his study.
“Heap-plenty-bong-assez,” Stalky assented.
“But why didn’t King ra’ar up an’ cuss Tar Baby?” Beetle asked.
“You preter-pluperfect, fat-ended fool!” Stalky began—
“Keep your hair on! We all know the Idolaters wasn’t our Uncle Stalky’s idea. But why didn’t King——”
“Because Dick took care to paint Brer Terrapin King’s House-colours. You can always conciliate King by soothin’ his putrid esprit-de-maisong. Ain’t that true, Dick?”
Dick Four, with the smile of modest worth unmasked, said it was so.
“An’ now,” Turkey yawned. “King an’ Macrea’ll jaw for the rest of the term how he ran his house when Macrea was trying to marry fat widows in Switzerland. Mountaineerin’! ’Bet Macrea never went near a mountain.”
“’One good job, though. I go back to Macrea for Maths. He does know something,” said Stalky.