“No,” said the others.
“All right—I have been—that’s all.” This sounded alarming. D’Arcy said—
“Why don’t you come over to our side, and out that lot! We could have no end of larks if you were Classics, instead of little Modern beasts.”
“Our side’s as good as yours,” snapped Lickford. “All serene; you’d better go and join them,” said Wally.
This did not advance the argument much further. Of course it was out of the question to go and tell tales to the Classic prefects, or even to their own master. Nor was the suggestion of sleeping that night on the Classic side hailed with enthusiasm by either party.
On the whole D’Arcy’s suggestion of getting back by the window seemed the most hopeful. When once back they would go straight to bed, where they would be safe for a while. Then, if they could manage to rise at the supernatural hour of six, they might succeed in evading the penalties of rebellion for another day. For to-morrow being exeat day, they would be free to roam where they liked. And they had a very good idea that wherever it was, they would give Forder’s house a very wide berth.
“Tell you what!” exclaimed Wally, slapping his brother on the back so hard as to cause him to yell loud enough to bring every prefect of Fellsgarth on to the spot. “Tell you what, old chappies; of course we will! Why ever didn’t we think of it before—eh?”
“Think of what?”
“Why, we’ll go up Hawk’s Pike, of course.”
“Of course we will,” said everybody.