"What! Why not?"
"He says there's a committee from his class coming to see you about it, b'gee."
"A committee!" echoed Mark. "I've got nothing to do with any committee. It's my business to challenge him."
"I know. But that don't make any difference. He wouldn't talk about it, he just said the committee would see you about it and explain the situation. And to make it more exciting, b'gee, they're coming now."
"How do you know?" inquired Mark.
"I saw 'em," answered Dewey, "and I told 'em where you were and, b'gee, they're on the way in a hurry. Something's up, b'gee, and I'm going to be right here to see it, too."
Dewey dropped into his corner once more, and after that the Seven said nothing, but waited in considerable suspense for the arrival of the distinguished first classmen, wondering meanwhile what on earth they could want and why on earth they found it necessary to interfere in Mark's quarrel with the officer.
They came, three of them, in due time. The Parson immediately arose to his feet.
"Hoi presbeis tou Basileos!" he said in his mist stately tone, and with his most solemn bow. "That's Greek," he added, condescendingly—to the six; he took it for granted that the learned cadets knew what it was. "It's a quotation from the celebrated comedy, the Acharnians, and it——"
They were shockingly rude, that committee. They paid not the least attention to the Parson and his classical salutation, but instead, after a stiff, formal bow, proceeded right to their business with Mark. The Parson felt very much hurt, of course; he even thought of challenging to a duel at once. But a moment later he found himself listening with rapt attention to the amazing information which that committee had to give.