could not have been so flamboyant as the spies reported.

"My word, she _is_ doin' herself proud," said Stalky. "Did you ever
smell anything like it? Ah, an' she isn't under White's dormitory at
all yet."

"But she will be. Give her time," said Beetle. "She'll twine like a
giddy honeysuckle. What howlin' Lazarites they are! No house is
justified in makin' itself a stench in the nostrils of decent--"

"High-minded, pure-souled boys. Do you burn with remorse and regret?"
said McTurk, as they hastened to meet the house coming up from the
sea. King had deserted it, so speech was unfettered. Round its front
played a crowd of skirmishers--all houses mixed--flying, reforming,
shrieking insults. On its tortured flanks marched the Hoplites,
seniors hurling jests one after another--simple and primitive jests of
the Stone Age. To these the three added themselves, dispassionately,
with an air of aloofness, almost sadly.

"And they look all right, too," said Stalky. "It can't be Rattray, can
it? Rattray?"

No answer.

"Rattray, dear? He seems stuffy about something or other. Look here,
old man, we don't bear any malice about your sending that soap to us
last week, do we? Be cheerful, Rat. You can live this down all right.
I dare say it's only a few fags. Your house is so beastly slack,
though."