"Who will you give me?"
"Well, let's see; there's Willis, Johnson—No, that won't do. Yes, I have it, there's young East; I'll give you him."
"Don't you wish you may get it?" replied Green. "I'll give you two for Willis, if you like?"
"Who then?" asks Snooks.
"Hall and Brown."
"Wouldn't have 'em as a gift."
"Better than East, though, for they aren't quite so sharp," said Green, getting up and leaning his back against the mantel-piece; he wasn't a bad fellow, and couldn't help not being able to put down the unruly fifth form. His eye twinkled as he went on. "Did I ever tell you how the young vagabond sold me[13] last half?"
"No—how?"
"Well, he never half cleaned my study out, only just stuck the candlesticks in the cupboard, and swept the crumbs on to the floor. So at last I was mortal angry, and had him up, and made him go through the whole performance under my eyes: the dust the young scamp made nearly choked me, and showed that he hadn't swept the carpet before. Well, when it was all finished: 'Now, young gentleman,' says I, 'mind, I expect this to be done every morning—floor swept, table-cloth taken off and shaken, and everything dusted.' 'Very well,' grunts he. Not a bit of it, though—I was quite sure in a day or two that he never took the table-cloth off even. So I laid a trap for him; I tore up some paper and put half a dozen bits on my table one night, and the cloth over them as usual. Next morning, after breakfast, up I came, pulled off the cloth, and sure enough there was the paper, which fluttered down on to the floor. I was in a towering rage. 'I've got you now,' thought I, and sent for him, while I got out my cane. Up he came, as cool as you please, with his hands in his pockets. 'Didn't I tell you to shake my table-cloth every morning?' roared I. 'Yes,' says he. 'Did you do it this morning?' 'Yes.' 'You young liar! I put these pieces of paper on the table last night, and if you'd taken the table-cloth off you'd have seen them, so I'm going to give you a good licking.' Then my youngster takes one hand out of his pocket, and just stoops down and picks up two of the bits of paper, and holds them out to me. There was written on each, in great round text: 'Harry East, his mark.' The young rogue had found my trap out, taken away my paper, and put some of his there, every bit ear-marked.[14] I'd a great mind to lick him for his impudence, but, after all, one has no right to be laying traps, so I didn't. Of course I was at his mercy till the end of the half, and in his weeks my study was so frowzy[15] I couldn't sit in it."
"They spoil one's things so, too," chimed in a third boy. "Hall and Brown were night-fags last week; I called fag, and gave them my candlesticks to clean; away they went, and didn't appear again. When they'd had time enough to clean them three times over I went out to look after them. They weren't in the passages, so down I went into the Hall where I heard music, and there I found them sitting on the table, listening to Johnson, who was playing the flute, and my candlesticks stuck between the bars well into the fire, red hot, clean spoiled; they've never stood straight since, and I must get some more. However, I gave them both a good licking; that's one comfort."