“Of course not, sir. It was really on account of the cows, sir,” replied McTurk, glowing with philanthropy.
“And you came straight back?”
“We ran nearly all the way from the Cattle-gate,” said Corkran, carefully developing the unessential. “That’s one mile, sir. Of course, we had to get the note from Toowey first.”
“But it was because we went to change—we were rather wet, sir—that we were really late. After we’d reported ourselves to the Sergeant, sir, and he knew we were in Coll., we didn’t like to come to your study all dirty.” Sweeter than honey was the voice of Beetle.
“Very good. Don’t let it happen again.” Their housemaster learned to know them better in later years.
They entered—not to say swaggered—into Number Nine form-room, where De Vitré, Orrin, Parsons, and Howlett, before the fire, were still telling their adventures to admiring associates. The four rose as one boy.
“What happened to you? We just saved Call-over. Did you stay on? Tell us! Tell us!”
The three smiled pensively. They were not distinguished for telling more than was necessary.
“Oh, we stayed on a bit and then we came away,” said McTurk. “That’s all.”
“You scab! You might tell a chap anyhow.”