OLIVER. Bet you what you like she knew.

JILL. Of course she did, and she'll tell the doctor, and he'll be as
beastly as he can. What did she say to you for being late?

OLIVER. I said somebody had bagged my sponge, and she wouldn't like me
to come down to prayers all unsponged, and she said, "Excuses, Oliver,
_always_ excuses! Leave me. I will see you later." Suppose that means
I've got to go to bed this afternoon. Jill, if I do, be sporty and
bring me up "Marooned in the Pacific."

JILL. They'll lock the door. They always do.

OLIVER. Then I shall jolly well go up for a handkerchief this morning,
and shove it in the bed, just in case. Cavé--here's Pin.

MISS PINNIGER _returns to find them full of zeal_.

GOVERNESS (sitting down at her desk). Well, Oliver, have you learnt
your piece of poetry?

OLIVER (nervously). I--I think so, Miss Pinniger.

GOVERNESS. Close the book, and stand up and say it. (Oliver takes a
last despairing look, and stands up.) Well?

OLIVER. It was a summer evening---

GOVERNESS. The title and the author first, Oliver. Everything in its
proper order.