"Then what are you badgerin' us for?" said Beetle. "On your own
showing, you've been so beastly slack, looking after the house, that
Prout believes it's a nest of money-lenders. I've told him that I've
lent money to Stalky, and no one else. I don't know whether he
believes me, but that finishes my case. The rest is your business."

"Now we find out," Stalky's voice rose, "that there is apparently an
organized conspiracy throughout the house. For aught we know, the
fags may be lendin' and borrowin' far beyond their means. We aren't
responsible for it. We're only the rank and file."

"Are you surprised we don't wish to associate with the house?" said
McTurk, with dignity. "We've kept ourselves to ourselves in our study
till we were turned out, and now we find ourselves let in for for
this sort of thing. It's simply disgraceful."

"Then you hector and bullyrag us on the stairs," said Stalky, "about
matters that are your business entirely. You know we aren't
prefects."

"You threatened us with a prefect's lickin' just now," said Beetle,
boldly inventing as he saw the bewilderment in the faces of the
enemy. "And if you expect you'll gain anything from us by your way of
approachin' us, you're jolly well mistaken. That's all. Good-night."

They clattered upstairs, injured virtue on every inch of their backs.

"But--but what the dickens have we done?" said Harrison, amazedly, to
Craye.