“Well, it was this way, you see,” began Percy, taking up, as was his wont, the narrative at a remote period. “After those Classic cads—k-i-d-s, you know, had—(Shut up, Wally, I said k-i-d-s; can’t you spell?) had caved in.”
“Who caved in!” expostulated the Classics.
“Well, after Stratton’s, you know, when we started the shop—I say, you’ll have to come and see the shop—well—it was before that, though; it was when the row began about Corder not being stuck in—that was before that, you know—Brinkman screwed his foot, so there was a man short for the team, so Clapperton—that’s our prefect, you know; he’s all right now, but he—hullo, I say, he’s gone asleep!”
Sure enough Mr Rollitt, weary with his long journey, with the excitement of the day, and with the excellence of the tea, had dozed off comfortably, on his chair in the fender, with his pipe in his mouth.
Percy felt it unnecessary to pursue his lucid narrative, and the nine hosts sat watching their man as his head nodded forward, and the urgent necessity for a snore presently rendered the position of the pipe no longer tenable.
It was a triumph! No man could have gone off like that unless he had felt thoroughly comfortable. The railway rug was again produced and laid over his knees, and his feet were gently lifted on the hassock, and a pillow was neatly inserted at the back of the chair; and all looked so snug, and the hospitable juniors were so pleased with the result, that they had the vanity to let the door stand open, so that all who passed by might see how comfortable they could make a guest when they liked.
To heighten the effect, they decided to do their preparation on the spot, and so not only impress the sleeper when he awoke, but advertise themselves to the outside world as boys who by no means neglected the serious side of school life for its lighter functions.
It must be owned that next day when the work thus accomplished was subjected to the microscopic test of the master’s eyes, it was not any better—some said it was even worse—than usual. That had nothing to do with the present.
Wally, who put his chair out again in the passage, had most of his time occupied in making pantomimic appeals for silence from passers-by, to whom he pointed out the figure of the sleeping Mr Rollitt as a justification. The others, debarred from speech (for it was considered that even a whisper might awaken the sleeper, although the violent process of tucking him up just now had failed to do so), were reduced to communication with one another in writing, which took up so much time and paper that very little of either was left for lessons.
At last, after half an hour’s suspense, the clang of the house-bell for call-over broke the spell. Mr Rollitt grunted and yawned and opened his eyes, looked about for his pipe, inspected the rug on his knees, took his feet off the hassock, and finally realised where he was.