“Jolly slow always playing dominoes,” said Cusack, “or spellicans.”
“Well, then, there’s—”
“Hold hard!” broke in Cusack, struck with a sudden idea. “What’s the name of the thing old Philpot’s always at?”
“What, chemistry? Jolly good idea, old man! Let’s go in for that.”
“Not a bad lark,” said Cusack—“lots of explosions and things. Philpot told me he could make Pharaoh’s serpents, and smells like rotten eggs. We’ll get him to coach us, eh, Pil?”
“I’m game,” said Pil, no less delighted than his friend at this happy thought.
And, full of their new idea of “going it steady,” the two worthies forthwith sallied out and made hue and cry for Philpot.
Unless Philpot in his leisure moments was engaged in some predatory expedition, or happened to be serving a term of imprisonment in the detention room, it was a pretty safe guess to look for him in the laboratory, where as an ardent student of science he was permitted to resort, and within certain limits practise for himself. Philpot himself bore the office of “second under bottle-washer” in Willoughby; that is, he assisted the boy who assisted the chemistry fag who assisted the assistant master to the science master; and on the strength of this distinction he was allowed some special privileges in the way of improving himself in his favourite branch of study. He was on the whole rather a promising pupil, and had a very fair idea of the properties of the several substances he was allowed to experiment with. Indeed he had had to pass an examination and perform some experiments in the presence of the master before he was allowed to enter the laboratory as a private student at all. No one knew exactly how he distinguished himself on that occasion, or how he succeeded with his experiments, but it was well-known that, if he had succeeded then, he had never done so since; that is, according to anybody’s idea but his own.
Cusack and Pilbury found him busy blowing through a tube into a bottle of water, looking very like a purple cherub bursting at the cheeks. He was so engrossed with his task that he did not even notice their entry, indeed it was not till Pilbury had stepped behind him and clapped him suddenly on either side of the face, making his cheeks explode like a small balloon, and spilling the contents of his bottle all over the table, that he became aware that he had visitors. “What a frightful idiot you are, Pilbury!” he exclaimed; “you’ve spoilt that whole experiment. I wish you’d shut up fooling and get out.”
“Awfully sorry, old man,” said Pilbury, “but you did look so jolly puffed out, you know; didn’t he, Cusack?”