“What’s all this foolery you’ve been up to, you two?” said he, coming into the preparation-room after tea, where most of the senior Parretts were assembled.
It was not flattering certainly to the two in question to have their noble protest for the honour of the school thus designated, and Game answered, rather sheepishly, “We’ve been up to no foolery!”
“You may not call it foolery,” said Bloomfield, who was in anything but a good temper, “but I do! Making the whole house ridiculous! Goodness knows there’s been quite enough done in that way without wanting your help to do more!”
“What’s the use of going on like that?” said Ashley. “You don’t suppose we did it to amuse ourselves, do you?”
“If you didn’t amuse yourselves you amused every one else,” growled Bloomfield. “Everybody’s laughing at us.”
“We felt something ought to be done about Riddell—” began Game.
“Felt! You’d no business to feel, if that’s the best you can show for it,” said Bloomfield. “You’ll never set things right!”
“Look here,” said Game, quickly, losing his temper; “you know well enough it was meant for the best, and you needn’t come and kick up a row like this before everybody! If you don’t care to have Riddell shown up, it is no reason why we shouldn’t!”
“A precious lot you’ve shown him up! If you’d wanted to get every one on his side, you couldn’t have done better. You don’t suppose any one would be frightened out of his skin by anything a couple of asses who’d been kicked out of the monitorship had to say?”
Bloomfield certainly had the habit of expressing himself warmly at times, and on the present occasion he may have done so rather more warmly than the case deserved. But he was put out and angry at the ridiculous performance of the Parrett’s boys, in which he felt the entire house was more or less compromised.