The youth at whom he pointed was the friendly senior of whom I had inquired the way to bed last night.
“Rather; he’s a Sharper. Why, and what about him?”
“He’s a hot man, they say, and the most popular chap at Low Heath. He’s captain of the Rifles.”
“What’s his name? Do you know?”
“Crofts, or Crofter, or something like that. What’s up?”
He might well ask!
“Crofter!” exclaimed I. “My word, Dicky, I’ve been and done it!”
“Done what?”
“Why, I called him a beast yesterday.”
“You did? You’re getting on, Jones iv.”