“Then I’ll go very slow,” said the master, with a smile.
Philip’s heart went out to the red-faced, commonplace young man who said a gentle word to him. He suddenly felt less unhappy.
But at night when they went up to bed and were undressing, the boy who was called Singer came out of his cubicle and put his head in Philip’s.
“I say, let’s look at your foot,” he said.
“No,” answered Philip.
He jumped into bed quickly.
“Don’t say no to me,” said Singer. “Come on, Mason.”
The boy in the next cubicle was looking round the corner, and at the words he slipped in. They made for Philip and tried to tear the bed-clothes off him, but he held them tightly.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” he cried.
Singer seized a brush and with the back of it beat Philip’s hands clenched on the blanket. Philip cried out.