“I say,” cried he, in positively piteous tones, “we give in. I’ll apologise, anything—do you hear?”
“Eh—go down on your knees, then,” cried the enemy.
“I am,” said Parson.
“Is he? the rest of you? is he on his knees? both of them?”
“Yes, he is,” cried Bosher. “Honour bright.”
“Well then, say ‘I’m a beastly cad, and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and will never do it any more.’”
“I’m a beastly cad,” gasped Parson, choking with shame, anger, and sulphuretted hydrogen, “and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and will never do it any more.”
“Now all the rest of you say it!”
Telson, Bosher, and King obeyed, one after the other.
“Is that all of you?”