"Well, Biffen has got a diabolical knack of picking up all the loose ends
of the school; all the impossible fellows gravitate here: why, look at our
Dervishes!" (Dervish was the slang for foreigners at St. Amory's.)

"We've certainly got more than our share of colour."

"That's Biffen's all the world over," said Dick, with intense heat; "you
could match any colour between an interesting orange and a real jet black
among our collection. Biffen simply can't resist a nigger. He must have
him. What they come to the place at all for licks me. Can't the
missionaries teach 'em to spell?"

"_La haute politique_," suggested Acton.

"Of Sarawack or Timbuctoo?" said Worcester, with scorn. "Bet my boots that
Borneo one's governor went head-hunting in his time, and the darkest
African one's knows what roasted man is."

Acton laughed, for a nigger was to Worcester as a red rag to a bull. "St.
Amory's for niggers!" Dick would say with intense scorn.

"Anyhow," said Acton, "I think there's no need for us to be quite so
slack."

"You'll pull us up a bit?" said Dick, with genuine admiration.

"Thanks. But I meant the whole house generally."

"Not much good. We're Biffen's, that never did nor never shall, etc."