"You must bring your own cup or have a dirty one," said Draycott, inspecting his cupboard shelves.
"Bang on the door and get one washed," Loring recommended, throwing himself on to the rug in front of the fire.
"It's no good. All the fags are over in Matheson's side, getting Leave Out for Wednesday."
"Well, bang and go on banging. They must come back some time."
Draycott kicked the door and waited. The only fags in Hall at the time were Sinclair, whose leave had been stopped for the rest of the term, and O'Rane, who was going over to Crowley Court. Sam Dainton had undertaken to get leave for both. The law and custom of the constitution were thrown into conflict, for, while custom decreed that a "school Colour" was never fagged, in the eyes of the law Sinclair was technically "lag of Hall."
"Fag wanted," Sinclair murmured, hardly looking up from his imposition.
O'Rane, who had entered for the Shelton Greek verse prize and was engaged in making his fair copy, glanced casually round the room.
"I'm not lag," he observed.
At the sound of voices Draycott repeated his summons.
"I'm blowed if I go," said Sinclair. Then, as O'Rane sat bent over his copy of verses, "Go on, will you?"