“What about?” asked Heathcote.
“Why, not being in bed. My eye! it’ll be rather warm for you, I tell you, if any of the Fifth catch you.”
“Why, it’s only half-past seven?”
“Well, and don’t you know the rule about new boys always having to be in bed by seven?” exclaimed the junior in tones of alarm.
“No. I don’t believe it is the rule,” said Heathcote.
“All right,” said the boy, “you needn’t believe it unless you like. But don’t say you weren’t told, that’s all,” and he walked off, whistling.
Heathcote was perplexed. He suspected a practical joke in everything, and had this junior been a trifle less solemn, he would have had no doubt that this was one. As it was, he was sorry he had offended him, and lost the chance of making quite sure. Dick, he knew, was still out of doors, and he, it was certain, knew nothing about the rule.
But just then a Fifth-form fellow came along, and cut off the retreat.
He eyed the new boy critically as he advanced, and stopped in front of him.
“What’s your name?” he demanded.