The Philosophers followed the cue, and, apparently unaware of the presence of any strangers, took possession of their slope, and tried to be as jolly as possible.
“I wonder where the day-boy cads go for their tucks,” said Trimble in an audible voice, evidently intended for the opposition. “Some one was saying they were trying to get up a kids’ club; ha, ha! I’d like to see it.”
“Such a joke, Quin,” said a voice over the way, evidently pitched to carry across to us. “You know those kids in Sharpe’s? they’ve started a society. What do you think their motto is? Oh my, it’s a screamer!”
“What is it?” asked the voice of Quin.
“Keep it dark. I wouldn’t like it to get out I told you. It’s Mens sani in corpore sanorum, or something like that. You should have seen Redwood yell over it.”
“Now, you fellows, let’s have our grub,” said Langrish encouragingly. “Chaps must eat, you know. Corpore sanum is our motto, you know. Ha, ha! What do you think I heard one of the day louts call it? Corpore sanorum!”
“Ha! ha! ha!” shrieked we.
“Ho! ho! ho!” shrieked the Urbans.
In the midst of which hilarities we produced our provender (greatly to the relief of our pockets), and fell to. The operation evidently did not pass unheeded by the other side.
“I say, Flitwick,” cried some one, “do you know what Philosophers eat?”