"Not exactly--in summer, anyhow." Stalky's eye roved contentedly to
the window. "Our bounds are pretty big, too, and they leave us to
ourselves a good deal."

"For example, here am I sitting in your study, very much in your way,
eh?"

"Indeed you aren't, Padre. Sit down. Don't go, sir. You know we're
glad whenever you come."

There was no doubting the sincerity of the voices. The Reverend John
flushed a little with pleasure and refilled his briar.

"And we generally know where the Common-room are," said Beetle
triumphantly. "Didn't you come through our lower dormitories last
night after ten, sir?"

"I went to smoke a pipe with your house-master. No, I didn't give him
any impressions. I took a short cut through your dormitories."

"I sniffed a whiff of 'baccy, this mornin'. Yours is stronger than Mr.
Prout's. _I_ knew," said Beetle, wagging his head.

"Good heavens!" said the Reverend John absently. It was some years
before Beetle perceived that this was rather a tribute to innocence
than observation. The long, light, blindless dormitories, devoid of
inner doors, were crossed at all hours of the night by masters
visiting one another; for bachelors sit up later than married folk.
Beetle had never dreamed that there might be a purpose in this steady
policing.