“I say, Green,” Snooks began one night, “isn't that new boy, Harrison, your fag?”
“Yes; why?”
“Oh, I know something of him at home, and should like to excuse him. Will you swop?”
“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?” asked Snooks. “Hall and Brown.”
“Wouldn't have 'em at a gift.”
“Better than East, though; for they ain't quite so sharp,” said Green, getting up and leaning his back against the mantelpiece. 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 last half?”
“No; how?”