place, too--an'--an' I wanted to read this afternoon."

Stalky sat on a desk drumming his heels on the form.

"You're a despondin' brute, Beetle. Sometimes I think I shall have to
drop you altogether. Did you ever know your Uncle Stalky forget you
yet? _His_rebus_infectis_--after I'd seen Heffy's man-tracks
marchin' round our hut, I found little
Hartopp--_destricto_ense_--wavin' a butterfly-net. I conciliated
Hartopp. 'Told him that you'd read papers to the Bug-hunters if he'd
let you join, Beetle. 'Told him you liked butterflies, Turkey.
Anyhow, I soothed the Hartoffles, and we're Bug-hunters now."

"What's the good of that?" said Beetle.

"Oh, Turkey, kick him!"

In the interests of science bounds were largely relaxed for the
members of the Natural History Society. They could wander, if they
kept clear of all houses, practically where they chose; Mr. Hartopp
holding himself responsible for their good conduct.

Beetle began to see this as McTurk began the kicking.

"I'm an ass, Stalky!" he said, guarding the afflicted part. "_Pax_,
Turkey. I'm an ass."

"Don't stop, Turkey. Isn't your Uncle Stalky a great man?"

"Great man," said Beetle.