"But you didn't seem to consider this when your house called us--ah--stinkers. If you hadn't assured me that you never interfere with another man's house, I should almost believe that it was a few casual remarks of yours that started all this nonsense."Prout had endured much, for King always took his temper to meals.
"You spoke to Beetle yourself, didn't you? Something about not bathing, and being a water-funk?" the school chaplain put in. "I was scoring in the pavilion that day.""I may have--jestingly. I really don't pretend to remember every remark I let fall among small boys; and full well I know the Beetle has no feelings to be hurt.""May be; but he, or they--it comes to to same thing--have the fiend's own knack of discovering a man's weak place. I confess I rather go out of my way to conciliate Number Five study. It may be soft, but so far, I believe, I am the only man here whom they haven't maddened by their--well--attentions.""That is all beside the point. I flatter myself I can deal with them alone as occasion arises. But if they feel themselves morally supported by those who should wield an absolute and open-handed justice, then I say that my lot is indeed a hard one. Of all things I detest, I admit that anything verging on disloyalty among ourselves is the first."The Common-room looked at one another out of the corners of their eyes, and Prout blushed.
"I deny it absolutely," he said. "Er--in fact, I own that I personally object to all three of them. It is not fair, therefore, to--""How long do you propose to allow it?" said King.
"But surely," said Macrea, deserting his usual ally, "the blame, if there be any, rests with you, King. You can't hold them responsible for the--you prefer the good old Anglo-Saxon, I believe--stink in your house. My boys arc complaining of it now.""What can you expect? You know what boys are. Naturally they take advantage of what to them is a heaven-sent opportunity," said little Hartopp. "What _is_ the trouble in your dormitories, King?"Mr. King explained that as he had made it the one rule of his life never to interfere with another man's house, so he expected not to be too patently interfered with. They might be interested to learn --here the chaplain heaved a weary sigh--that he had taken all steps that, in his poor judgment, would meet the needs of the case. Nay, further, he had himself expended, with no thought of reimbursement, sums, the amount of which he would not specify, on disinfectants.
This he had done because he knew by bitter--by most bitter--experience that the management of the college was slack, dilatory, and inefficient. He might even add, almost as slack as the administration of certain houses which now thought fit to sit in judgment on his actions. With a short summary of his scholastic career, and a precis of his qualifications, including his degrees, he withdrew, slamming the door.
"Heigho!" said the chaplain. "Ours is a dwarfing life--a belittling life, my brethren. God help all schoolmasters! They need it.""I don't like the boys, I own"--Prout dug viciously with his fork into the table-cloth--"and I don't pretend to be a strong man, as you know. But I confess Ican't see any reason why I should take steps against Stalky and the others because King happens to be annoyed by--by--""Falling into the pit he has digged," said little Hartopp. "Certainly not, Prout. No one accuses you of setting one house against another through sheer idleness.""A belittling life--a belittling life." The chaplain rose. "I go to correct French exercises. By dinner King will have scored off some unlucky child of thirteen; he will repeat to us every word of his brilliant repartees, and all will be well.""But about those three. Are they so prurient-minded?""Nonsense," said little Hartopp. "If you thought for a minute, Prout, you would see that the 'precocious flow of fetid imagery,' that King complains of, is borrowed wholesale from King. He 'nursed the pinion that impelled the steel.' Naturally he does not approve. Come into the smoking-room for a minute. It isn't fair to listen to boys; but they should be now rubbing it into King's house outside. Little things please little minds."The dingy den off the Common-room was never used for anything except gowns. Its windows were ground glass; one could not see out of it, but one could hear almost every word on the gravel outside. A light and wary footstep came up from Number Five.
"Rattray!" in a subdued voice--Rattray's study fronted that way. "D'you know if Mr.
King's anywhere about? I've got a--" McTurk discreetly left the end of the sentence open.
"No. he's gone out," said Rattray unguardedly.
"Ah! The learned Lipsius is airing himself, is he? His Royal Highness has gone to fumigate." McTurk climbed on the railings, where he held forth like the never-wearied rook.
"Now in all the Coll. there was no stink like the stink of King's house, for it stank vehemently and none knew what to make of it. Save King. And he washed the fags _privatim_et_seriatim_. In the fishpools of Hesbon washed he them, with an apron about his loins.""Shut up, you mad Irishman!" There was the sound of a golf-ball spurting up gravel.
"It's no good getting wrathy, Rattray. We've come to jape with you. Come on, Beetle.
They're all at home. You can wind 'em."
"Where's the Pomposo Stinkadore? 'Tisn't safe for a pure-souled, high-minded boy to be seen round his house these days. Gone out, has he? Never mind. I'll do the best Ican, Rattray. I'm _in_loco_parentis_ just now."("One for you, Prout," whispered Macrea, for this was Mr. Prout's pet phrase.)"I have a few words to impart to you, my young friend. We will discourse together a while."Here the listening Prout sputtered: Beetle, in a strained voice, had chosen a favorite gambit of King's.
