kick their souls out of 'em, and they go and blub in the box-rooms.
Shove their heads into the ulsters an' blub. Write home three times
a day--yes, you brute, I've done that--askin' to be taken away.
You've never been bullied properly, Campbell I'm sorry you made
_pax_."

"I'm not!" said Campbell, who was a humorist in a way. "Look out,
you're slaying Sefton!"

In his excitement Beetle had used the stump unreflectingly, and Sefton
was now shouting for mercy.

"An' you!" he cried, wheeling where he sat. "You've never been
bullied, either. Where were you before you came here?"

"I--I had a tutor."

"Yah! You would. You never blubbed in your life. But you're blubbin'
now, by gum. Aren't you blubbin'?"

"Can't you see, you blind beast?" Sefton fell over sideways,
tear-tracks furrowing the dried lather. Crack came the cricket-stump
on the curved latter-end of him.

"Blind, am I," said Beetle, "and a beast? Shut up, Stalky. I'm goin'
to jape a bit with our friend, _a'_la_ 'Molly' Fairburn. _I_ think I
can see. Can't I see, Sefton?"

"The point is well taken," said McTurk, watching the strap at work.
"You'd better say that he sees, Seffy."