“Are you busy, old man?” asked Corder.
“I don’t want you here,” said Selby.
“Why, what’s the row?”
“Row? You’re a sneak, that’s the row. Cut!”
Surely Selby must be out of sorts to talk like that. Corder stood in the door for a moment, on the off-chance that his friend might be joking. But no; Selby turned his back and began to read a book.
This was getting monotonous. Corder returned to his study to think it out a little more. His fag, Cash, was there looking for a paper.
“Hullo, youngster! that you? We didn’t get beaten after all, to-day, I suppose you heard.”
Cash’s reply was laconic, to say the least of it. He turned round and put out his tongue.
“None of your cheek, I say,” said Corder, “or I’ll—”
“How dare you speak to me!” said the junior; “you’re a cad—I’m not going to fag for a cad.”