Ch. 6: A Little Prep

Easter term was but a month old when Stettson major, a dayboy,
contracted diphtheria, and the Head was very angry. He decreed a new
and narrower set of bounds--the infection had been traced to an
out-lying farmhouse--urged the prefects severely to lick all
trespassers, and promised extra attentions from his own hand. There
were no words bad enough for Stettson major, quarantined at his
mother's house, who had lowered the school-average of health. This
he said in the gymnasium after prayers. Then he wrote some two
hundred letters to as many anxious parents and guardians, and bade
the school carry on. The trouble did not spread, but, one night, a
dog-cart drove to the Head's door, and in the morning the Head had
gone, leaving all things in charge of Mr. King, senior house-master.
The Head often ran up to town, where the school devoutly believed he
bribed officials for early proofs of the Army Examination papers; but
this absence was unusually prolonged.

"Downy old bird!" said Stalky to the allies one wet afternoon in
the study. "He must have gone on a bend and been locked up under a
false name."

"What for?" Beetle entered joyously into the libel.

"Forty shillin's or a month for hackin' the chucker-out of the Pavvy
on the shins. Bates always has a spree when he goes to town. Wish he
was back, though. I'm about sick o' King's 'whips an' scorpions' an'
lectures on public-school spirit--yah!--and scholarship!"

"'Crass an' materialized brutality of the middle-classes--readin'
solely for marks. Not a scholar in the whole school,'" McTurk
quoted, pensively boring holes in the mantel-piece with a hot poker.

"That's rather a sickly way of spending an afternoon. Stinks too.
Let's come out an' smoke. Here's a treat." Stalky held up a long
Indian cheroot. "'Bagged it from my pater last holidays. I'm a bit
shy of it though; it's heftier than a pipe. We'll smoke it
palaver-fashion. Hand it round, eh? Let's lie up behind the old harrow
on the Monkey-farm Road."

"Out of bounds. Bounds beastly strict these days, too. Besides, we
shall cat." Beetle sniffed the cheroot critically. "It's a regular
Pomposo Stinkadore."

"You can; I shan't. What d'you say, Turkey?"

"Oh, may's well, I s'pose."

"Chuck on your cap, then. It's two to one. Beetle, out you come!"

They saw a group of boys by the notice-board in the corridor; little
Foxy, the school sergeant, among them.

"More bounds, I expect," said Stalky. "Hullo, Foxibus, who are you in
mournin' for?" There was a broad band of crape round Foxy's arm.

"He was in my old