“It’s all right,” said Stalky. “He can’t do much. ’Tisn’t as if you’d pulled the desks up like we did when old Carleton took prep. once. Keep it up! Hear ’em cheering in the studies!” He rocketed out with a yell, to find Flint and the prefects lifting the roof off the corridor.
When the Head of a limited liability company, paying four per cent., is cheered on his saintly way to prayers, not only by four form-rooms of boys waiting punishment, but by his trusted prefects, he can either ask for an explanation or go his road with dignity, while the senior house-master glares like an excited cat and points out to a white and trembling mathematical master that certain methods—not his, thank God—-usually produce certain results. Out of delicacy the Old Boys did not attend that call-over; and it was to the school drawn up in the gymnasium that the Head spoke icily.
“It is not often that I do not understand you; but I confess I do not to-night. Some of you, after your idiotic performances at prep., seem to think me a fit person to cheer. I am going to show you that I am not.”
Crash—crash—crash—came the triple cheer that disproved it, and the Head glowered under the gas. “That is enough. You will gain nothing. The little boys (the Lower School did not like that form of address) will do me three hundred lines apiece in the holidays. I shall take no further notice of them. The Upper School will do me one thousand lines apiece in the holidays, to be shown up the evening of the day they come back. And further—”
“Gummy, what a glutton!” Stalky whispered.
“For your behavior towards Mr. Mason I intend to lick the whole of the Upper School to-morrow when I give you your journey-money. This will include the three study-boys I found dancing on the form-room desks when I came up. Prefects will stay after call-over.”
The school filed out in silence, but gathered in groups by the gymnasium door waiting what might befall.
“And now, Flint,” said the Head, “will you be good enough to give me some explanation of your conduct?”
“Well, sir,” said Flint desperately, “if you save a chap’s life at the risk of your own when he’s dyin’ of diphtheria, and the Coll. finds it out, wha-what can you expect, sir?”
“Um, I see. Then that noise was not meant for—ah, cheek. I can connive at immorality, but I cannot stand impudence. However, it does not excuse their insolence to Mr. Mason. I’ll forego the lines this once, remember; but the lickings hold good.”