“‘About a mile from home the Oxford stroke (“stroke” altered to “Bloomfield”) spurted, and the dark blue flag (“dark blue” altered to “schoolhouse”) once more shot ahead. Gross steering by Parson, who I allude to above, who steers his boat into the bank and breaks rudder-line. It is ascertained Fairbairn and others are suspected. After this a ding-dong race ensued to the finish where eventually the dark (altered to “light”) blues won by a foot (altered to “mile”) Parrett’s having given in owing to Parson who is alluded to above.’”
“Oh, I say, this is a drop too much,” exclaimed the wrathful Parson, rising. “I’ll pay him out for this, see if I don’t!”
“Don’t be an ass, Parson,” said Telson. “Sit down, can’t you? You’ve no business to look at his diary at all, you know, if it comes to that.”
Parson sat down with a wrathful countenance, and Telson proceeded.
“We shall not see a new race as I hear Riddell and Bloomfield declining. I spoke to Parson who completely repents. He suspects Telson who he ascertains is the one to do it. It is gross. How many things go wrong. Wyndham hath not found his knife he requested me had I seen it. I answered nay, not so. I have composed these verses which I will set down here as they may recall the past:—
“‘My name is Norval (altered to “Bosher”), on the Grampian (altered to “Willoughby”) hills. My father (altered to “Doctor Patrick”) feeds his flocks (altered to “boys”)’.”
“Well,” said Telson, as he closed the thrilling narrative, and tossed it back to King, “I never thought Bosher was up to much, but I didn’t know he was a downright lunatic.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said King. “It’s not so bad. I tried to keep a diary once, but I could never find anything to say.”
“Well, I guess Bosher’s not hard-up in that line,” said Telson, laughing. “But, I say, we ought to give it to him back somehow.”
“I’ll give it to him back pretty hot!” exclaimed Parson. “I vote we burn the boshy thing.”