"'Take not out your 'ounds on a werry windy day,'" Stalky struck in.
"_I_ don't care if you let him off."

"Nor me," said Beetle. "Heffy is my only joy--Heffy and King."

"I 'ad to do it," said the Sergeant, plaintively.

"Right, O! Led away by bad companions in the execution of his duty
or--or words to that effect. You're dismissed with a reprimand, Foxy.
_We_ won't tell about _you_. I swear we won't," McTurk concluded.
"Bad for the discipline of the school. Horrid bad."

"Well," said the Sergeant, gathering up the tea-things, "knowin' what
I know o' the young dev--gentlemen of the College, I'm very glad to
'ear it. But what am I to tell the 'Ead?"

"Anything you jolly well please, Foxy. We aren't the criminals."

To say that the Head was annoyed when the Sergeant appeared after
dinner with the day's crime-sheet would be putting it mildly.

"Corkran, McTurk, and Co., I see. Bounds as usual. Hullo! What the
deuce is this? Suspicion of drinking. Whose charge??"

"Mr. King's, sir. I caught 'em out of bounds, sir: at least that was
'ow it looked. But there's a lot be'ind, sir." The Sergeant was
evidently troubled.

"Go on," said the Head. "Let us have your version." He and the Sergeant
had dealt with one another for some seven years; and the Head knew