They tried to look as if they did not mind it, and Fisher minor naturally did his best to appear knowing.
“I don’t mind,” said he, with a snigger; “they’re all milksops at home. I’d sooner be here.”
“I wouldn’t,” put in the sturdy Ashby. “I think it’s horrid not to see a face you know.”
“There you are; what did I say! Screaming for his mammy,” gibed Wally.
“And if I was,” retorted Master Ashby, warming up, “she’s a lot better worth it than yours, so now!”
Master Wally naturally fired up at this. Such language was hardly respectful from a new junior to an old.
“I’ll pull your nose, new kid, if you cheek me.”
“And I’ll pull yours, if you cheek my mother.”
“Booh, booh, poor baby! Who’s cheeking your mother? I wouldn’t cheek her with a pair of tongs. Something better to do. I say, are both you kids Classics?”
“Yes,” they replied.