"And what did you say?" I asked.
"I said, 'You aren't sacking me then, sir?' He said, 'Sacking, laddie? What strange tongue is this?' And then I knew I was all right. Clayton'll be captain next year. He'd have made me, otherwise. Can't be helped. And I guess I got Melton in my vest pocket most ways. Good-night, bat-ears. I'm going to bed."
As the door closed behind him Loring sighed to himself.
"If he isn't sacked for this, he'll be sacked for something else," he predicted. "I hope it won't be till I'm gone, because he refreshes me. D'you remember his first term?"
"He's extraordinarily popular now," I said.
"He's the most fearless little beast I ever met. And there's such a glorious uncertainty about him. One moment he's your long-lost brother, the next he's slanging you like a pickpocket in about six languages, the next he's apologizing and shaking hands. I suppose he'll be captain the year after next. It'll be an eventful time for the school."
O'Rane's other conflict with authority was less impassioned and on a smaller scale. He had absented himself from Chapel for the better part of the term, and Burgess one day inquired the reason.
"I don't believe all the stuff they hand out there, sir."
"Have I asked thee to believe it, laddie?" demanded Burgess, who had almost ceased to expect polished diction from O'Rane.
"Well, sir, if I pretend to believe it...."