“Now then, Telson,” cried the voice again, “come here.”
“I can’t—I’m busy!” shouted Telson back from where he sat. At the same moment the door opened, and Game entered in a great state of wrath.
The appearance of a Parrett monitor “on duty” in the schoolhouse was always a strange spectacle; and Game, when he discovered into whose study he had marched, was a trifle embarrassed.
“What is it, Game?” asked Riddell, civilly.
“I want Telson,” said Game, who, by the way, had scarcely spoken to the new captain since his appointment.
“What do you want?” said Telson, boldly.
“Why didn’t you come when you were sent for?” demanded Game.
“Who sent for me?”
“Bloomfield.”
“I’m not Bloomfield’s fag,” retorted Telson. “I’m Riddell’s.”