AN UNSAVORY INTERLUDE.



It was a maiden aunt of Stalky who sent him both books, with the
inscription, "To dearest Artie, on his sixteenth birthday;" it was
McTurk who ordered their hypothecation; and it was Beetle, returned
from Bideford, who flung them on the window-sill of Number Five study
with news that Bastable would advance but ninepence on the two;
"Eric; or, Little by Little," being almost as great a drug as "St.
Winifred's." "An' I don't think much of your aunt. We're nearly out of
cartridges, too--Artie, dear."

Whereupon Stalky rose up to grapple with him, but McTurk sat on
Stalky's head, calling him a "pure-minded boy" till peace was
declared. As they were grievously in arrears with a Latin prose, as
it was a blazing July afternoon, and as they ought to have been at a
house cricket-match, they began to renew their acquaintance, intimate
and unholy, with the volumes.

"Here we are!" said McTurk. "'Corporal punishment produced on Eric the
worst effects. He burned _not_ with remorse or regret'--make a note
o' that, Beetle--' but with shame and violent indignation. He
glared'--oh, naughty Eric! Let's get to where he goes in for drink."

"Hold on half a shake. Here's another sample. 'The Sixth,' he says,'is
the palladium of all public schools.' But this lot--" Stalky rapped
the gilded book--"can't prevent fellows drinkin' and stealin', an'
lettin' fags out of window at night, an'--an' doin' what they please.
Golly, what we've missed--not goin' to St. Winifred's!..."