“Wonder if he hadn’t! He’s got more cribs than school books, I think.”
“I say,” said King, most persuasively, “could you collar it, do you think, old man!”
“Eh? No,” said Telson; “I draw the line at that sort of thing, you know.”
“Well, then,” said King, evidently in a state of desperate mental agitation, “could you ever find out the answer for Number 13 in Exercise 8, and let me know it in the morning? I’d be awfully obliged.”
Telson said he would see, whereat King was most profuse in his gratitude, and Telson received several other commissions of a similar nature.
These little matters of business being satisfactorily settled, the company proceeded to the discussion of more general topics.
“Fearful slow term this,” said Parson, with a yawn.
“Yes,” said Telson, spreading a piece of bread with about a quarter-of-an-inch layer of jam; “we’re somehow done out of everything this term.”
“Yes. We can’t go out on the river; we can’t go into town; we can’t go and have a lark in Welch’s; you can’t come over to see us—”
“No; that’s a howling shame!” said Telson.